


❝DANGANRONPA GALORE!❞

by Kodzumie



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kodzumie/pseuds/Kodzumie
Summary: Here you'll find various written works revolving around the various characters of Danganronpa! Of course, you—the reader—will be included in these works as well! Whether it be a romantic relationship, platonic, or even familial; here you'll find it all!
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Reader, Danganronpa/reader, Harukawa Maki/Reader, Komaeda Nagito & Reader, Komaeda Nagito/Reader, Oma Kokichi & Reader, Oma Kokichi/Reader, Saihara Shuichi/Reader, Tsumiki Mikan & Reader, Tsumiki Mikan/Reader, kokichi/reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 168





	1. Danganronpa Galore!

❝ **WELCOME TO DANGANRONPA GALORE!** ❞

Here you'll find a gallery of various written works revolving around the various characters of Danganronpa!

Of course, you—the reader—will be included in these works as well!

Whether it be a romantic relationship, platonic, or even familial; here you'll find it all!

➤ **BEWARE**

I am pretty diverse with my writing so there may be some pieces that have questionable themes. (i.e. Yandere, somnophilia, dub con, noncon, etc.)

However, with everything, I will put the proper warnings to make sure you don't potentially get triggered!

Your safety comes first!

❝ **NOW, IT'S SHOWTIME!** ❞

I hope you enjoy what I have to offer, and I'm so happy to finally be able to be a part of the Danganronpa fandom!

Thank you for deciding to read my writing.

I hope you have a pleasant time here!


	2. ❝YANDERE❞ Kokichi—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, manipulation, threats of abandonment, and gaslighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very first work on AO3 like... ever! I hope it's good, ahaha. Please do tell me what you think, I'd love to hear it! <3

⤷ To his very core, he’s a cunning, paradoxical individual. Kokichi derives from fantastical ideals; daydreams of a world in which his interest remains piqued.

⤷ He hates boredom, such emotion is merely viewed as unforgivable in his eyes. And he’ll do all that he can to ensure he’s enjoying himself; to ensure he’s entertained.

⤷ So, as to be expected, he’s enamored for all that is able to provide him such recreation. Thus why he began to develop the buddings of interest towards you; you kept him on the tips of his toes, eager with anticipation.

⤷ But he wouldn’t push forth and pursue after the claim of your heart through confession.

⤷ Why? That’d be too boring, of course! Confronting you with an admission of how he feels towards you would be nothing short of monotonous. Much too bland for the tastes of an Ultimate Supreme Leader such as himself.

⤷ And what would be more fascinating other than watching the gradual rupture of the human mind? Especially the mind of the one who held his heart captive.

⤷ Thus the game of cat and mouse had commenced, caging you in the cycle of a game you never wanted to be a part of; all to entertain the one who claims to adore you. But you wouldn’t believe that. Nobody would. He’s a liar, through and through.

⤷ Kokichi is as deceitful as a bat is blind. His sly nature proving to be merely his asset in order to conquer over you as his pawn.

⤷ He’ll wreak his havoc over you. Instinctively, he’ll begin with your mind, toying with all that you believed and knew in order to tug the rug beneath your feet.

⤷ He promises that he truly does love you and cares for you beyond anything else. But with his reputation, it’s nearly criminal to believe the lies that spill from his mouth; you should know this, he doesn’t care for you. It’s lies, lies, _lies!_

⤷ But Kokichi knows just how you think, an invasion of privacy to the encompass of your thoughts as he plagues every inkling of doubt.

⤷ His behavior towards you differs from the others; from everyone, either of you knows. And you can see it too, he makes sure you’re aware of it.

⤷ He makes sure you’re aware and acknowledges the sheer contrast of tone when conversing with you in favor of others. To you, his words hold a playfulness that’s comparable to being juvenile; boyish.

⤷ If anything, his banter with you could be described as soft. Well, as soft as Kokichi could ever be associated and described as.

⤷ But you’re aware of how the sharp daggers of playful insults are with that of a dull blade, merely a poke in good fun. Yet with others, his words possess an animalistic, carnivorous bite.

⤷ You knew that he sought to submerge himself under the skin of others, irritating them to the point of grit teeth and yanking of their hair, tugging their scalp raw.

⤷ However, you began to believe those weren’t his intentions with you. Dare you say that perhaps Kokichi didn’t view you as the prey to his jabs, but rather as someone he’d prefer to expose his care towards.

⤷ It warmed your heart, these assumptions of yours. And thus you believed them; you believed the wholesome thoughts that the young male truly did enjoy your presence and valued you.

⤷ You believed what brought you the most comfort, and perhaps that was where you were fatally mistaken.

⤷ As soon as the belief that he cared for you had sunk into your mind, he’d escaped your clutches of familiarity without a trace; hardened glares, crude insults.

⤷ Upon the moment you thought you had begun to understand him, he morphs into someone unrecognizable. It was as though you never knew him in the first place; as though you never knew Kokichi.

⤷ And with the hope of finding what you assumed was the Kokichi you knew, you attempted to withstand the cold, blatant detachment of his eyes as they meet your own. You pushed forth the barricade of insults and attempted to reclaim your ideals of Kokichi’s care; to reclaim someone you prayed even existed.

⤷ It was through the hope that you began to notice the inklings of carr and acknowledgment seeping through him. It seemed that you’d finally be met with the Kokichi you’ve come to love; the one you’re able to recognize.

⤷ His insults that once pierced and mauled into your heart like the canines of a beast, chewing you apart and tearing you to mere shreds were now an obvious jest; one that attempted to retrieve a giggle from you rather than a sob.

⤷ And at long last, it seemed as though you were able to calm yourself. You’ve retrieved the comfortable attachment you’d acquired from Kokichi, and now you find that there’s nothing to worry about.

⤷ You feel safe; relieved. The title of friendship with the prankster himself wasn’t one you’d ever taken lightly.

⤷ So when he throws you for a loop—a vicious cycle—of indifference and then care, your heart was split relentlessly. The wounds healing only to be torn open, their stitches tugged out as fragments scattered your withered mind.

⤷ To his enjoyment—his sick, twisted delight—your mind was being built up only to be knocked down; familiarizing you with the mind fuck of an attachment he’s forced upon you.

⤷ It was cruel. His malicious intents unbeknownst to you, yet tauntingly clear.

⤷ Kokichi Oma is a liar, through and through. His tongue dipped in the silver coating of falsified hope for his words to stain themselves within.

⤷ But his adoration is an unbreakable truth sketched with the ink of his promises in the fine print. His love for you is _real_ , as is proven by the inscription in contrast to mere words hanging in the air disguised as wishful whispers.

⤷ Though as true as his love is—as true as his devotion to you may be—he wouldn’t dare admit it to you. At least, not the first between both of you.

⤷ Regardless of how far gone down the plundering realm of love he was, he wouldn’t utter the words you crave to have confirmed until you pursue him first. His pride is an angry, green-eyed villain, one that holds his confession hostage at the back of his throat as he toys with you; toys with your mind.

⤷ And as tough as you make yourself to be—head held high with an unfaltering smile resting upon your lips—he’d break you down eventually. The longer he plays, the more interesting your reactions become.

⤷ Your erratic, borderline deranged hysteria at being left behind once more as he provides you nothing more than a cold shoulder is so, _so_ amusing.

⤷ He’s perfectly aware of your desperation as the cycle of his cruel ways repeats once more, just as you’re aware of how you’re on the brink of falling apart if you’re left behind once again.

⤷ So with a long-forgotten pride that’d been swallowed as easily as a pill, you find yourself situated before him, eyes spilling over with tears.

⤷ You beg, and you beg, and you beg. Over and over until the words that fall from your lips hold no other meaning than _please don’t leave, not again._

⤷ And with that, he’s satisfied. His patience having been run through the mill as he waited for the eventual breaking of your mentality, enough so to have you on your knees begging for his affections.

⤷ He’s aware of how malicious it is. How toxic he had been to put you through a maddening cycle of love and loss to acquire your sacred words of desperate devotion; your pleas for his returned affections.

⤷ Now he’s sure, so very sure, that you won’t leave him. You simply can’t. You came crawling to him first, you came begging for his love first, _you came to him_.

⤷ You wanted to be with him first, he never made such advancements. At that very moment, you’d sealed yourself to him, encasing yourself within the mousetrap as Kokichi’s grin held genuine care with the faux silver lining of deceit.

⤷ He’ll be sure to remind you of how easily he could leave you, much like the cycle he’d put you through. He’ll be sure to engrave it within your mind that you mean nothing to him.

⤷ Of course, that’s a lie! But you wouldn’t know that. He wouldn’t let you know that. If you even try to search for the truth within his devotion and adoration, he’ll put you in your place; you begged on your hands and knees for his mutual love, you confessed to him.

⤷ Kokichi Oma is a liar, that much is certain. He’s a cunning and paradoxical individual. His words tethered with insincerity and cutting into whomever he targets.

⤷ Yet there’d be no greater truth to be uttered by him other than that he loved you, he truly loved you.

⤷ But you wouldn’t know that. You wouldn’t know that was the truth amidst the Atlantic sea of his falsehoods, each picking apart at all that you believed was true. All you knew was that Kokichi Oma was a liar, through and through.


	3. ❝YANDERE❞ Mikan—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, drugging, and nonconsensual somnophilia.

⤷ Her entire existence had been the heart of inconvenience. The world tossed her aside as though her life were nothing but a hassle, her survival proving futile to anyone and everyone; she was alone, and not a soul cared for her.

⤷ Her instincts were derived from being abandoned. In the lifetime of Mikan Tsumiki, abandonment was inevitable. Being left behind is merely the dissonant outcome of trust and interaction.

⤷ And thus, she’s untrusting. As it’s been engraved into her mind, _if you are not needed, you will not be wanted._

⤷ It’s been a concept—an idea—that she’s been forced to bear. If others weren’t given a reason to need her, to rely on her, they’d find no use in her. This was the harsh reality Mikan had been forced to instill within her mind.

⤷ Yet, despite the harsh and unforgiving pains of betrayal within her life, she still found herself falling for the fragments of care you provided her.

⤷ Perhaps it was within your nature to be kind; to be someone that surrounded others in the warmth of your presence as you soothed their worries momentarily.

⤷ Mikan wasn’t one to trust easily, but she was one to love. And when she falls into love, she devotes herself with every scrap of her pathetic life she can muster.

⤷ Her heart swells in remembrance of how you appeared upon first meeting her; meek and fragile. Though that was to be expected, you were in the nurse’s office with reasoning, of course. A fever, a rather high one at that.

⤷ With Mikan’s status as the Ultimate Nurse, she took care of you. Providing you with a damp washcloth to regulate your temperature as she shuffled to retrieve your medicine from the cabinet. It was an ordinary occurrence, her daily life as the trusty nurse after all.

⤷ And yet the most peculiar thing had occurred amidst the most ordinary of days. As you lay gasping from the heat your very own body radiated, you still found it within you to meet eyes with Mikan.

⤷ She could tell how difficult it was for you to remain conscious, your body exhausted from attempting to preserve itself, yet you pushed yourself to give her a sincere smile. A passive _thank you_ escaping your lips before an exaggerated sigh followed, and your eyes fluttered shut.

⤷ For a moment, she swore her heart had halted thumping, her breath catching within her throat. Was she hearing things? Had she managed to catch your fever in the few minutes of reach with you and experiencing some sort of hallucination?

⤷ Hundreds, if not, thousands of thoughts and excuses passed her mind before she settled; you had thanked her. Pitifully enough, this had been a first-time occurrence and one that stuck with the young nurse.

⤷ You were sent home that day. Yet your nearly inaudible whisper of gratitude echoed within Mikan’s mind as though it were a blaring alarm signaling for her to wake up.

⤷ But as always, she assumed that as soon as your eyes had shut, your moments together had concluded. She never expected to see you again, much less speak to her, and yet she was sorely mistaken.

⤷ There you stood before her, eyes trained on her own lavender hues. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you spoke, your words barely registering in her mind. Her mind occupied with the realization that you sought her out, you searched for her, you took time out of your day for her.

⤷ She manages to hear the end of yet another _thanks_ , another voiced gratitude towards her as you smile.

⤷ The same smile that forces her to appear akin to a deer gazing at headlights. She was frozen momentarily and struggling to comprehend what’s being told to her.

⤷ Her first instinct was to apologize; to beg for forgiveness. Yet she had no reason to apologize, you’d just thanked her, after all. But it was an instinct and one that consumed her.

⤷ Thankfully, you weren’t looking for words to be sprouted back to you. Instead, you left with the same treasured smile on your lips that you’d blessed her with.

⤷ And with that, Mikan had deemed that the last of your meetings. It was inevitable, no matter the circumstance.

⤷ Life was run on a clock, a timed death sentence as every being awaited their own demise. Nothing was forever, not unless it were in death. And Mikan doubted she’d find someone who’d love her in life, much less even in death.

⤷ Though Mikan, yet again, finds that she is proven wrong. Not that she assumed she was right, anyway.

⤷ But the two of you meet again. This time under circumstances that she had hoped to avoid. It was a common occurrence, almost as common as her being found within the vicinity of a medical center; being picked on.

⤷ This was the closest thing to friendship Mikan had managed to acquire. Hiyoko had always had a sharp tongue, regardless of friendship status, her sharp words would still sear through and pierce into the hearts of whomever she preys upon.

⤷ And fragile, meek little Mikan was a typical victim to these harsh words. Every insult stabbing through her stitched heart, threatening to tear open the wounds once more.

⤷ Mikan was familiar with embarrassing moments. Her clumsy antics landing her in positions she prays to forget. And yet, she’s constantly attracting further embarrassment; much like her own pitiful existence she relentlessly apologizes for; apologizing for existing.

⤷ But having you witness her being torn down by the blonde had been an entirely new tidal wave of embarrassment. You, of all people in the forsaken academy, had seen her in her weakest moments.

⤷ She was familiar with being viewed as weak. She knew, herself, that she was an easy target, one that required minimal effort to instill rue within.

⤷ She was aware of them much like those around her were. Yet she didn’t want you to be aware of this knowledge; of this fact.

⤷ In the moments she’d known you, she had been at her most collected. Assisting you and nurturing you back to health as much as she could. She appeared as strong as she could be; as strong as she could ever be. And all of that strength displayed would mean nothing once you bear witness to how pitifully pathetic she truly is.

⤷ Would you prey upon her as well? Would you seek out her weaknesses and tear into them with your canines as though you inherited an unfathomable, animalistic hunger? Would you hurt her too?

⤷ It was then that her true infatuation had been birthed. Her yearning to love and be loved pulsating within her barren heart in which was deprived of genuine care. She felt the beginnings of a chance, the dispersion of her despair.

⤷ Your abhorrent gaze fixated ahead of you, and to Mikan’s relief, it wasn’t directed towards her. You gazed at Hiyoko with the flames of Hell itself raging in your eyes. Pure, unaltered anger burning a passionate fire.

⤷ It was all akin to a butterfly effect; a chain of events as a result of a singular action.

⤷ Mikan wasn’t sure where the chain had begun, but she understood that the flaps of the butterflies within her stomach weren’t in relation to sickness.

⤷ Of course not, she took excellent care of herself. But regardless, these flutters were delicate; ever-so soft. So much so, she swore they even tickled.

⤷ It was the first bloom of the garden of her potential devotion to you; the garden in which is littered with thorns—poisonous thorns—awaiting to prick at those unfortunate to be subject to her adoration.

⤷ And to your unaware dismay, that poor soul just so happened to be you; the same blissfully oblivious individual assisting the young nurse from her position on the floor after having been kicked by the antagonistic blonde; Hiyoko.

⤷ Much like the first blossoming of her feelings for you, that very moment had been the beginning of your friendship. Hand-in-hand as you walked her back to her house, only separating at your respected stops.

⤷ For every second you held her hand in yours, Mikan’s heart spun all the way to the moon.

⤷ If only you knew what you were doing to her and her poor little heart. _If only you knew the nightmare you were brewing for yourself._

⤷ The walks home together soon turned into grabbing a bite together as well. Rather than obligation, it was a decision; one that you indulged in. And Mikan found herself swooning with hedonistic desire, a dangerous swirl of obsession within the cocktail of her love.

⤷ It was times like those that Mikan thanked her ability as the Ultimate Nurse. Having been accustomed to most prescriptions and symptoms, she was relied on by those who found themselves ill.

⤷ Much like you did when you claimed that you’d felt the slightest bit dizzy as the two of you walked home together, sipping on your drinks that Mikan had offered to fetch for you both; reciting your usual order as though it were the lyrics to the popular radio songs.

⤷ She asked you the typical questions, or well, what you assumed was typical. You wouldn’t question the nurse in her own field. You trusted Mikan to know what she was doing, leaning against her as your head grew foggier.

⤷ She had taken you home, assisting you up the stairs with an arm slung around her shoulders. Your breathing slow, nearly inaudible as you suppressed the urge to cave into a deep sleep.

⤷ With delicate care, she managed to tuck you into your bed. She scurries about in your room as you eye her with a fluttering gaze, stars littering your vision.

⤷ It wasn’t long before you’d shut your eyes without another worry. You’d assumed you were merely exhausted, a reasonable explanation. With the amount of testing you’d done that same week as a result of the semester coming to an end, it’s no wonder you’d be so worn out.

⤷ And being in the presence of the young and ever-so-talented nurse, Mikan, you knew you didn’t have anything to worry about. Mikan would take great care of you, without a doubt!

⤷ So when you woke up to find her sitting on the edge of your bed, peering down at you with a smile so soft—so sincere—you swore you couldn’t differentiate if it was the warmth of the blanket or the blush that was overwhelming you.

⤷ Mikan was truly so kind to you, treating you with such care and assuring you that you’d feel A-Okay under her watchful eye.

⤷ Before leaving, she lets you know she’s going to go fetch you some tea. She claims it’ll be easier on you and the herbs will provide you with an organic remedy your cells will be delighted to indulge in; whatever that means.

⤷ Yet as she stands by the door, she turns to you with a gleam in her eyes, one that you should’ve paid closer attention to as she asks you; _would you like sugar in your tea?_

⤷ You nod your head, signaling to her that you’d prefer having your tea sweetened.

⤷ Laying your head back down onto your pillow, you sigh as you allow yourself to relax once more. Truly submitting yourself to the care of your dear friend, Mikan.

⤷ After all, she only wants to do what’s best for you. She’s the nurse and you’re her patient. Who are you to question what she’s doing?

⤷ Even as Mikan rips open a miniature packet of a granulated white substance—gamma-hydroxybutyrate—a fine powder appearing akin to sugar, but is most definitely not the ladder. Though you shouldn’t bother worrying your little head over it.

⤷ Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best—

⤷ And it’s through blind trust—the very same trust that Mikan had shunned yet you embraced so easily—that you sip the tea Mikan had prepared for you. Merely biting back the scrunching of your features at the odd salty taste with a soapy undertone.

⤷ Mikan had always been a bit clumsy, so surely she must’ve simply mixed grabbing the salt rather than the sugar. Your mind rejecting any assumption that was anything other than that; you trusted Mikan. She wouldn’t do anything to harm you.

⤷ So as your head fogs further, your eyes drooping once more as the world grows darker, Mikan takes your cup from your hands and sets it on your nightstand.

⤷ Your body seems to have a mind of its own as you find yourself unable to move, your consciousness slipping before you could comprehend what’s happening. Though it’s not like you’d even steer your thoughts towards the bitter truth.

⤷ You trusted Mikan, you believed in her and the kindness of her actions, and the sincerity of her care.

⤷ And before fully submerging in the clutches of a deep slumber, you can feel the slender, wistful hands of another cradle your skin, squeezing and familiarizing themself with your figure.

⤷ As your eyes finally fluttered shut, your last sight had been of Mikan—your dear, trusted friend—hovering over you. Her lavender-hued gaze painted over with a sickening lust as her cheeks were flushed. Her visage is that of a crazed, lovesick fool.

⤷ The storm of Mikan’s obsessive love had been brewed. Stirred into a whirlwind of singed rose petals in which blood stains the thorn of the torn flowers from within her garden of despair; her heart torn to shreds only to be stitched together once more.

⤷ You, her beloved, are caging within the brambles of her desire. As her lips ghost over your unconscious form, suckling on your plush skin that she fawns over with such feverish admiration.

⤷ Her hands wander, and they wander, and they wander; she can’t get enough of you. She’ll never get enough of you. She’s truly a fool, disillusioned by the possibilities—the hope—love provides.

⤷ She’ll take all she can get. She’ll take every ounce of affection you have to offer. Her grasp clinging onto your body, stealing what unexplored regions you have to offer. Her yearning pushing her to take more; to steal all that she can, in the name of your love.

⤷ But it’s alright. After all, you won’t remember a thing once you awaken. And she can do it again, and again, _and again_.


	4. ❝YANDERE❞ Nagito—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, stalking, nonconsensual photography, worship, masturbation, and sacrilege.

⤷ In his love-stricken eye, you were ethereal. A beam of absolute hope, relinquishing despair and paving a path for the greater good. In his eyes, you were more than his hope; you were his god.

⤷ He hailed your every word; your every step; your every notion. Anything you do or say, he follows with every bit of his culminated devotion.

⤷ He saunters behind your lead, his head dazed with the true belief in the words that leave your mouth. You were never wrong. You were flawless in every form imaginable. You were perfection personified.

⤷ His devotion spiraled from your overwhelming optimism. Your positive energy seeping into the heart of others, as seen within their visage.

⤷ You were the embodiment of true hope, his one, and only. You were his beacon of light shining towards a better tomorrow.

⤷ And he swore there wouldn’t be a day in his miserable, worthless life that he wouldn’t cherish your very existence.

⤷ He swarmed his lifestyle with you, you, _you!_ His fixation manifesting through his every action and train of thought. Anything he did, he did it for you.

⤷ So when he began observing you from afar, eyeing you as you go about your daily life, he swore up and down it was for you. To truly invest in you; his hope—no. _His god_.

⤷ You didn’t notice his presence lurking behind you at almost all hours. But, of course, you wouldn’t! He wouldn’t dare hope for someone of your elite status to pay heed to mere scum like him; like everyone around you.

⤷ Nagito was as self-loathful as he was jealous. Though he wouldn’t dub such turmoil as jealousy. Someone as lowly as him had no right to be jealous. You’d never associate with someone whose worth is that of garbage.

⤷ No, no. You’re better than that. You’re deserving of far more than that. You were a deity. You reigned over filthy nobodies much like him, casting hope upon everyone no matter how meaningless their existence may be.

⤷ So it was only natural he’d feel such a searing, blazing burst of repugnance at the audacity of people. The audacity of society. To see the way strangers so easily conversed with you, so carelessly interacting with you.

⤷ Were they not aware of your ethereal mien? Were they not aware of _who_ they were speaking to?

⤷ Nagito found it nauseate. Witnessing so many nugatory nobodies engaging with you yet holding no regard to just how valuable you are; to your aristocracy.

⤷ Truthfully, he thought of it as a miracle that you would speak to those so invaluable. But that’s what pulled him—like a magnetic pole—to be enamored by you.

⤷ You were so hopeful. You sought the beauty of everything and everyone your treasured gaze laid upon. You discovered hope within the most purposeless of entities, and he could only fantasize the hope your beloved eyes would seek out within him.

⤷ But he merely dreams of such a thing. Never would he dare pollute your valuable time and existence with the thought of his irrelevant self. He was nothing, and he sure as hell was below even a nobody to you.

⤷ So he watched, and he watched, and he watched your every move. His ghostly green hues trained on your form, from any and all angles.

⤷ Anywhere you were, he was as well. Trailing behind you was as common as your very own shadow. He promised he’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. If his hope would allow, he’d do anything and everything to pursue complete allegiance.

⤷ He sought to appreciate and worship the entirety of your existence. For as long as you lived, he hoped—oh, how beautiful hope is to allow him to dedicate his life to you—he’d treasure you entirely.

⤷ His days spent following behind you, avoiding being seen by the public eye, or rather _your eye_ , had soon evolved into beyond that of just following.

⤷ Much to Nagito’s dismay, he harbored fragments of bitter selfishness. Atrocious, it truly was. How could someone as lowly—as much of a scum as him—possibly writhe in selfishness?

⤷ He was already undeserving of being within your shadow, following you home. Yet he still had the shameless desire to yearn for more. Sickening; he could only be further disgusted by his miserable existence.

⤷ But he couldn’t help himself. Someone as faultless as you was meant to be obsessed over, right?

⤷ And thus, he began to take pictures. Photographs of his beloved hope—his god—saved within his phone.

⤷ At first, he was shaken beyond his own comprehension of the impudence to take a photograph of you, especially with photography skills as shameful as his. But still, much as he expected, even through his worthlessness you had shone; you looked absolutely beautiful in each and every shot.

⤷ His collection of photos only increased with each passing second. Soon enough, his fingers instinctively curled to the dimensions of his phone, readily waiting to snap a picture of your radiance.

⤷ It took a singular day to accumulate one hundred photos, and after a week he’d managed to possess well over seven hundred photos of you; of his beloved god.

⤷ Not a single photo was scrapped. Each of them equally cherished and mounted upon his wall with the use of tape. The walls of his bedroom soon filling with pictures of you, you, _you!_

⤷ And he wouldn’t have it any other way. As he laid atop his bed, his eyes would trail towards the pictures on his wall.

⤷ One was of you leaving your home to begin your walk towards the academy he was blessed to enroll in along with you. Your uniform ironed and peppered with your fragrance that Nagito dreamed to be drowned in.

⤷ Another was of you changing in the locker room. Of course, it was rather difficult to acquire the photograph due to the mirrors and the risks of being caught if you managed to catch sight of his reflection as he took a snap of you. But, thankfully, his luck had been on his side that day.

⤷ And his personal favorite, a photo taken from outside your bedroom window through the miniature crack that your curtain provided. It was an odd angle, but Nagito didn’t mind it. After all, the view it provided was one worth a million; beyond the worth of his unworthy life.

⤷ It was a photo of you seated atop your bed. The hem of your tee tucked between your lips as it allowed the exposure of your delicate chest and abdomen.

⤷ Nagito’s eyes were trained upon your exposed skin. Every inch blessed his eyes with a euphoria he knew no bounds of, his chest swelling with rapture at the sight of your body; a figure so holy.

⤷ But his eyes didn’t remain on your chest for long, instead deciding to flicker down to where your left hand squirmed.

⤷ Nagito swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight, his eyes darkening with the sheen of lust as his gaze remained trained on where your hand sunk onto, your sweats pulled down to your thighs.

⤷ There you were, in all your glory, pleasuring yourself. From behind the glass of your window, he could hear the muffled noises of your pants and moans. Whispers of whiny wants as you strive towards your climax.

⤷ The view was one that would forever be engrained into Nagito’s mind. Of all memories he’s acquired in his life, he wouldn’t dare allow himself to forget this one.

⤷ Nagito could only watch as his darling hope—his god—pleasured themself by their very own hands.

⤷ Drool collected within his mouth, seeping through the corner of his lips as his pants strained. The erotic yet maddeningly hypnotizing sight of you committing such a lewd deed brought him heeps of pleasure, and he hadn’t even been touched.

⤷ Despite his practically animalistic craving, he wouldn’t allow himself to wander into his own, tainted imagination. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine his own dirty, grimy fingers touching your plush skin. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine his forgettable, horrendous name being moaned from your lips.

⤷ No, he wouldn’t. He’d take what he had been blessed with wholeheartedly, and that was the sight he was given the grace to see. All that matters is that of all odds, he was there at that very moment and witnessing the treasured sight of a lifetime.

⤷ The same sight that was now on his wall in the form of a photograph. Though that wasn’t the only one of that sacred, divine night.

⤷ In the span of the fifteen minutes you’d spent, touching yourself and blubbering out pleas for more pleasure—more exquisite delight—Nagito managed to acquire two hundred sixty-three photos. Each of them stashed within the shoebox beneath his bed.

⤷ His admiration for you had caused him to plunder into an abyss of inexplainable hope. He constantly yearned, constantly strived, and relentlessly hoped to achieve.

⤷ He continued to hope yet he was unaware of what for. Had he been hoping to be noticed by you? By his beloved hope that had no business meddling with scum like him? Or had he hoped to truly achieve absolute devotion to you within his minuscule lifetime?

⤷ Nagito was blissfully unaware as he allowed himself to drown in the hope you radiated, unaware of his worthless existence basking within it.

⤷ Perhaps he’ll never truly decipher what he had hoped for. But for as long as he lived, he’d dedicate himself entirely to you; to your ethereal entity. He’ll continue to trail in the encompass of your shadow until his dying breath.

⤷ Nagito Komaeda devoted himself to you; to your hope; to your words; to your actions. He committed to your very existence, following the belief in you; his god.


	5. ❝FIRST TIME❞ Kokichi—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); (N)SFW, loss of virginity, submissive characters, experienced reader, and established relationship.

⤷ Due to his playful and joking demeanor, his first time would be alleviated of the tension it could’ve potentially had, easing him into the moment.

⤷ He’s likely to crack a joke or two. It’s not much but it’s certainly enough for him to feel comfortable amidst such a foreign intimacy.

⤷ Truth be told, he’s nervous; so very nervous and blinded with insecurity. But he’d never tell you that, and if you attempt to gauge the truth you’ll merely be smothered with an array of lies; he’s never going to admit it.

⤷ Despite his inner turmoil and anxieties, his visage appears collected to you. As a liar, he’ll go through hell and back in order to make sure he looks capable of what he’s doing.

⤷ Though his façade surprisingly dissipates once he’s the one being pleasured. As you run your fingers along his body, cascading further until you reach his most sensitive of areas, his expression will contort to that of distress laced with curiosity.

⤷ A curiosity that you indulge in as though you were sipping the delicacy of a mere cocktail; flushing yourself with the remanence of such a sugary drink.

⤷ He’d originally claimed that as the Ultimate Supreme Leader, of course, he’d had sex before!

⤷ And truthfully, you didn’t bother to disprove his claims. After all, you acknowledged that if he didn’t want to admit it, that was fine. Just like it was fine if he was being truthful of having experience.

⤷ But from the way he falls apart under your hypnotic grasp, your fist clasping over his cock and pumping him at a moderate pace, spreading the precum the crown oozed along his shaft, you began to suspect yet another fib from the infamous liar.

⤷ Interestingly enough, he’s sensitive; so very sensitive. Every ghost of touch will leave him gasping and whining feverishly for more; for an abundance of your love and carnal care.

⤷ Kokichi is a vocal individual. He’s never been known for being the quiet type. He’s a bustling radiance of pure, unhindered chaos, and this doesn’t change from within the sheets either.

⤷ Grunts and groans are only uttered from between his lips when he still gives enough of a shit to hide his sounds, biting his bottom lip to suppress his pathetically voiced ecstasy.

⤷ But once you both truly start getting more into it, he begins to lose himself in the pleasure. Ghostly touches turned into hungry—no, starved—grasps and squeezes. Fleeting kisses of delicate desire now suckle of lips and teeth against each other’s skin as you’re both plunged into the unmistakable clutches of lust.

⤷ His grunts melt into moans; the very same moans that bounce against the walls of your shared bedroom and dissolve into breathless pleas; pleads to go faster, harder.

⤷ His front as the Ultimate Supreme Leader is long forgotten as he succumbs to his wants—his needs—shamelessly begging for more; begging for your touches.

⤷ His pride was swallowed long ago, long before you bucked your hips, pushing him closer and closer towards his climax. His sobs, moans, and whines flooding your ears as he practically sang your name as though it were a mantra.

⤷ Whatever dominance he attempted to display had been long-forgotten as he writhed from beneath you, peering up at you with a clouded gaze. Curses of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ as he was driven to the edge, crying out as he came.

⤷ If you thought he was sensitive during your session, then the aftershock of his first shared orgasm had left him seeing stars at every minuscule movement.

⤷ He looked the most fragile you’d ever seen him as he stuttered out a yelp as you assisted him in cleaning up. A blush residing on his cheeks—flushed countenance—as he watched you with a swirl of newfound love in his eyes.

⤷ If you invested further attention to the way his lips contorted into a warm, sincere smile, it’d have proven fatal to your heart; melting your composure as you peered at his gentle expression, one that was reserved solely for you.


	6. ❝FIRST TIME❞ Mikan—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); (N)SFW, loss of virginity, submissive characters, experienced reader, implications of previous sexual abuse, and established relationship.

⤷ It’ll take a while for her to engage in such a thing, honestly. She’s incredibly hesitant and overthinks every possibility of how she could ruin the moment, giving you yet another reason why her pitiful self was not worth your time.

⤷ Not to mention that most of her presumptions on sex have been based on trauma involving sexual experiences.

⤷ She’s terrified, not only from how she could possibly upset you with her clumsy antics and inexperience but from the act itself. She’s afraid to be so vulnerable. To be laid bare in front of you was enough to spike her anxieties.

⤷ She trusts you, she swears she does. But she doesn’t trust herself to be so exposed. Her view of herself tainted with insecurity and constant doubt.

⤷ Fear is instilled in her as the haunting thought of being not enough; failing to meet your expectations. She knows she shouldn’t think this, you’ve told her countless times that she’s more than enough for you.

⤷ But the thoughts don’t diminish that easily, a lesson she’s had to painfully bear as each degrading thought pierces through her heart with malicious intent.

⤷ It’s a constant turmoil between wanting to swallow back the bile of self-doubt and insecurity to pursue your mutual wants, but the chains of fear are almost unbreakable. _Almost_.

⤷ Because one day, what started out as nothing more than a make-out session had resulted in discarded clothing, suckling of skin, and lust-filled gazes.

⤷ Everything was a blurred array of desire and haste. Feverish kisses to muffle needy whines as things progressed so fast.

⤷ She wanted this, she really did. But as your hands began to wander down, familiarizing yourself with her body through playful, teasing squeezes, she couldn’t help the anxiety that resurfaced.

⤷ Would you be satisfied with what she has to offer? Would she be able to please you? What if she hurts you? What if you end up hurting her? But you wouldn’t do that, would you? What if she—

⤷ Her train of thoughts is interrupted by the sound of your voice, tethering her back to reality where your concerned gaze meets her as you ask her if she wants to continue.

⤷ She expected disappointment, she expected even the possibility of anger within your gaze and words. But she found no such thing. Rather, she found worry; concern; genuine care for her wellbeing.

⤷ It wasn’t much, a simple question and the interlocking of eyes. Yet, strangely enough, her hammering heart seemed to calm as her anxious thoughts stilled.

⤷ Perhaps it was the realization that you really cared for her that eased her worries. But regardless, she felt considerably stable than when she did moments prior. Her shaky hands managing to steady themselves as she gripped your shoulders with a timid smile, admitting she’d like to continue.

⤷ You didn’t return to your ministrations for a moment, instead, you peer into her eyes in search of doubt. But once you found none and felt assured that she truly did want this, you pressed your lips against hers for a delicate kiss; whispering an _I love you_ against her.

⤷ Mikan’s heart nearly melted as she smiled, feeling so unbelievably calmed with the most minimal of reassurances. It’s truly one of the millions of reasons she loves you so much; you can ease her worries with such skill she’s convinced you’re the Ultimate Stress Reliever.

⤷ You peppered her body with kisses, following up with a swipe of your tongue and a suckle to mark your claim; the bruises forming scattered bringing a greater flush to her cheeks.

⤷ Her pleas were muffled as she attempted to silence her moans in fear of releasing a sound that you weren’t pleased with.

⤷ But you’re quick to notice what she’s attempting to do and you settle your domineering gaze upon her, the dark glint in your eyes nearly pulling another moan from her, one that she quickly swallowed back. Yet you protested, assuring her that you want to hear her.

⤷ She apologizes, an apology you didn’t allow to be voiced as you bite against her sensitive area, to which her apology was cut off by a yelp.

⤷ Though you eased the bite as you swiped your tongue over the mark, kissing it softly as an unspoken _sorry_.

⤷ Mikan couldn’t help being so vocal. Every kiss, every suck, every touch, every word muttered forced some sort of sound to spill from her lips. Squeaks, mewls, moans, and even sobs.

⤷ The symphony she provides within the bedroom was one that she assumed she’d be shamed for. Yet you did no such thing. No matter what, you continuously go against the horrors she presumes and shower her in endless bounds of affection.

⤷ Even whispering a sultry _you sound so pretty_ into her ears before brushing your thumb over her clit, drawing out yet another raspy mewl that you claim to adore.

⤷ In the heat of the moment, you smothered her with your praise and care as you made sure she understood the extent to which you loved her; to which you adored her.

⤷ So much so, that she faintly giggles in remembrance of how nervous she was before doing this with you; before indulging in such a lewd act with you.

⤷ But as you’ve always proved to her, any moment shared with you is one to remember; one to cherish.

⤷ And as the two of you approach your oncoming climax together, she smiles through her moans as the bubbling of euphoria erupts within her heart; at that moment, she couldn’t be happier.


	7. ❝FIRST TIME❞ Nagito—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); (N)SFW, loss of virginity, submissive characters, experienced reader, and established relationship.

⤷ He’s beyond hesitant; reluctance paints his every move as though he were nothing more than a canvas doused in hues of doubt.

⤷ Despite whether or not he’d been yearning to engage in this sort of intimacy with you, he wouldn’t dare initiate it. His faltering in pursuit due to his negative views of himself.

⤷ He genuinely believes that you don’t want anything to do with him and that touching his worthless, filthy body would disgust you so unfathomably. He fears your rejection, and thus he avoids any possibility of it; he thinks he was already pushing his luck to be in a relationship with you.

⤷ Therefore, you were the one to bring it up to him. You’d asked him of whether or not he’s experienced; if whether or not he’s ever shared an intimacy such as that with another.

⤷ But this question tugged him into a fog of self-pity and humorless amusement. He’d strung together a tangent on how it’d be a miracle if anyone would want to do something like that with scum like him.

⤷ Of course, you weren’t going to allow your lover to put himself down like this. Going back and forth, you continuously declined his claims stating that anyone to do something like that with him would be so lucky.

⤷ At that, he finds something; a flicker. Perhaps it was a flicker of hope that’d planted a seed within his roots of doubt; hope that maybe— _just maybe_ —you’d want to commit such an erotic act with him.

⤷ But he didn’t allow his hope to seep into his words, instead, he cast his gaze towards his lap, falling silent.

⤷ It was then that amidst the silence you had decided that enough was enough, and the amount of stalling you’d done on asking him was ludicrous in contrast to how the two of you were so keen on communication within your relationship.

⤷ Your words hung in the air as a drawn-out mutter, your voiced innermost wants seeping into the atmosphere as you avoided his gaze; _would you ever want to do it with me?_

⤷ The moment he registered your words, he choked on his spit and whirled his head to meet your eyes with an expression of pure shock.

⤷ He truly couldn’t believe his ears, perhaps his luck had duped him once more and he heard the wrong thing. Eventually, that was what he settled on because, truthfully, he couldn’t believe that he’d heard those daunting words of wishful desires that he’d suppressed his yearns for.

⤷ So he asked you to repeat what you said, the aftermath of his shock dissipating as he assumed he’d simply heard you wrong. Oh, how surprised he was when he heard you utter the same words; _would you ever want to do it with me?_

⤷ Nagito’s senses felt overwhelmed at that moment. His heart continuously swelled and fluttered at the realization of your words, his ears imaginatively rehearsed your words—fleeting whisper—as though they were lyrics to a catchy tune, his eyes trained on the nervous visage you sported.

⤷ He parted his lips only to close them; he was at a loss for words. What does he say? _What could he say?_

⤷ Honestly, the shock of your willingness to do something so scandalously sensual with the likes of him was a pill he struggled to swallow.

⤷ It was almost as though he was within the confines of a lucid dream, a dream of great pain, if so. He couldn’t believe it, you actually wanted to make love with him. _Him_ , of all people.

⤷ Realizing that he was taking far too long to respond to the question that clearly took a lot of nerve to voice, he nods his head almost frantically. A blush painting over his pale complexion.

⤷ At his nod, a smile tugged at your lips as you toyed with the hem of your sleeve; a habit Nagito has come to cherish. It was a peculiar tick of yours, yet one he couldn’t help but find adorable.

⤷ To his nod, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. Your intentions had been clear from the delicacy of the kiss; it was fleeting, a mere show of your relief and affections.

⤷ Yet as you began to pull away, his hand finds itself residing at the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it was bundled with passion, unvoiced declarations of devotion.

⤷ The kiss was hasty, a great contrast to what you’d originally meant to initiate. But with the way you feverishly returned his sloppy kisses, you didn’t mind the change of pace.

⤷ It was spontaneous; spurred in the heat of the moment. What began as a soft kiss drastically melted into heated, sweat-glazed bodies pressing against one another; both bare, vulnerable.

⤷ He could feel your chest against his as his heart hammered within his rib cage. He wondered if there was the slightest possibility that you could feel it pulsate, beating for you; his love.

⤷ But despite how far you two had managed to go, naked and dissolving into each sloppy kiss the other engages in, there was still the burdening inkling of doubt; hesitance in every single movement of his.

⤷ Even as his fingers squeezed and rubbed over your skin—grasping at all that he could—there was still that searing fear instilled within him.

⤷ He was scared; so very scared. He was terrified that you’d come to your senses eventually and register the mistake you were in the process of making; letting scum like him commit such a lewd act with you.

⤷ He feared the worst; rejection. And as you pulled him in for another kiss, you could taste the bitter reminisce of uncertainty; of reluctance.

⤷ And you’re painfully aware it won’t be relieved in the span of a mere hour. Nagito’s self-degradation is stemmed from his nearly nonexistent self-worth. The only fragments of such a thing that he possesses are due to your frequent proclamations of adoration towards him; smothering him in compliments.

⤷ But it’ll be a long while before he would ever truly understand his worth; for him to understand that he’s not as lowly as he makes himself out to be.

⤷ So, as he stutters in movement, his hands flinch upon settling on your hips, look convincing himself he was treading amongst forbidden territory.

⤷ The words spilled from your lips without a hitch in beat, your smile accompanying each syllable as you meet his eyes. A sheen of sincerity glimmering in your hues.

⤷ You wanted him to know that you’re doing this with him because _you want to_ , you chose him for a reason. You wanted him to believe that he meant so much to you and that even as you cradle his body against yours, you hold him closest within your heart.

⤷ He was not something for you to throw away once used. This wasn’t the hit-and-go scenario that he fears your intimacy may transpire to be.

⤷ With every declaration of your love for you, your longing for him, your genuine attachment to him, he reclined from your body, his vision blurred with tears in which he attempted to stop.

⤷ Rubbing at his eyes in a futile attempt to hide his tears, a stuttered sob escapes from between his lips. And eventually, his cries seep out akin to a waterfall; the tears wouldn’t stop, his sobs wouldn’t cease, and his heart wouldn’t stop hurting.

⤷ You allowed him to let it out, to let go of the emotions he’d bottled that were long overdue. You gave him what he rightfully deserved; a moment to be vulnerable, to feel _human_.

⤷ Pressing delicate kisses to his cheek, you kiss away the stray tears as you laid him down, straddling him.

⤷ You continued pressing your lips against his plush skin tinted with rose as he flushed beneath your ever-so gentle care. With every kiss, you whispered a compliment taken straight from the confines of your heart; sincerity within anything you muttered in infatuation of him.

⤷ Your lips continued to travel, pressing against the crevices of his body. The heated compassion of your kisses paired with your praise threatened to bring forth another round of tears from the affection-starved male.

⤷ But you were more than willing to fill in the gaping hole of his heart in which was yearning for love; for some sort of worth.

⤷ You’ll prove to him that you truly love him. You truly care for him with the entirety of your heart, and you’d appreciate him wholeheartedly. Even if it takes years, you’ll push forth and reach that fateful day together.

⤷ And as your body continued to press against one another, whines of lustful desperation swirled with adoration smothering the air, the glaze of love within your eyes had never faltered.

⤷ Even as lust intertwined with the concoction, you never lost the look of genuine care within your gaze. And not a moment passed that Nagito wasn’t peering at the hypnotic sight.

⤷ His eyes fixated on the love in your eyes as the bubbling of another emotion—other than his oncoming climax—blossomed within his stomach.

⤷ Hope; he was familiar with the concept. His rants of such a thing often accompanied by you listening intently, something he found himself falling harder for.

⤷ But as he acknowledged the love in your eyes—the pure devotion of your heart to him and solely him—he felt hope; hope that he could one day understand that feeling towards himself; hope that perhaps he wasn’t a mere throw-away, a stepping stone to others; hope that he can one day shed his hesitance and plunge forward, sure of himself.

⤷ As the two of you finally reached your climax, hands intertwined, your gasps synchronized, Nagito felt hope. And for as long as you stayed with him, he was hopeful that he, too, can truly understand the way you value him.

⤷ But for now, he dissolves the thought and settles for wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his form. Right at that very moment, he felt euphoria; exhilaration. You _wanted_ to do this with him, _you wanted him_ , and he was happily yours.


	8. ❝CUDDLING❞ Nagito—Headcanons

⤷ Throughout your relationship, Nagito was never one to initiate any sort of physical conveying of affection.

⤷ Unable to push forth due to the capsule of doubt and disdainful reluctance his mind traps him in, caging him with thoughts of how _scum like him shouldn’t dare taint you with his filthy touch._

⤷ He’s aware he shouldn’t be thinking such a way, you’ve instilled it in his head a million times that he’s not as worthless as he thinks he is. You find value within him, yet despite that he simply cannot accept that he has any right to initiate such intimate contact with someone as ethereal as you; as hope-filled as you.

⤷ But his desires subconsciously seep into his habits, providing themselves as hintings towards what he wants. Whether it be that he scoots closer to you when sitting beside one another whilst watching a movie, resting his hand amidst the space between you two waiting to be held, or even keeping his gaze trained on your form for longer than intended.

⤷ Eventually, you get the hint and figure out what it is that he wants. Thankfully, you act on this realization and pull him closer to you, tucking your head between the crook of his neck.

⤷ Nagito is quite the fan of cuddling along with any form of physical display of affection; hand-holding, kisses and anything to brush up on your form.

⤷ Yet his favorite positions are the honeymoon hug and sweetheart’s cradle! Both being ever-so intimate and allowing both partners to bask in delicately sincere adoration.

⤷ A secret Nagito has yet to tell; he’s a hopeless romantic. He adores the concept of romance itself and the gestures that culminate to be the embodiment of passion.

⤷ Though he prefers sweetheart’s cradle over the honeymoon hug due to his romanticized idealism of the position itself; it’s casual, yet clings onto the title of compassion with a heartfelt grip.

⤷ Nagito enjoys laying his head against the side of your chest, leaning towards your collarbone almost as your arm wraps around him, pulling him close. It’s almost as though it were a side hug, the warmth of your body providing him comfort as your attention was drawn elsewhere.

⤷ Typically, your free arm would be used to hold your phone as you hold Nagito to your side. His interpretation of the passion within this position managing to ease him further into you, a smile upon his lips.

⤷ Even as you scroll through your phone—even as your mind is elsewhere—you continued to hold him close. Your breathing synchronized with his as he drifts to his thoughts, shutting his eyes.

⤷ It’s so peaceful; so incredulously casual that he almost feels at ease to initiate such a position himself.

⤷ The feeling of resting against you, ready to fall into the clutches of slumber as you cradle him is his comfort. His mind managing to calm the storm of irrationality from within your grasp and allowing him a moment of solace.

⤷ He prefers to be held, but he’d merrily oblige if you would like to be cradled instead. The position you two find yourselves situated in is typically dependent on what _you_ want, so for his suggestion, you’ll likely have to pester him for a bit.

⤷ Though his heart metaphorically flutters at your consideration of his opinion. He truly appreciates and takes to heart your deliberation of his feelings towards things, it’s yet another of the hundreds of things that he loves about you.

⤷ When cuddling with Nagito, he’s almost always cold. His body is rather sensitive and, due to his sickness, he’s never truly at an appropriate body temperature.

⤷ But you don’t think much of it as you take him into your arms, laying back as he lays between your legs and situates his head atop your chest; yet another position he finds comfort in.

⤷ He enjoys gazing into your eyes, a lovestruck glimmer within his ghostly green orbs as he nuzzles against you. Your warmth along with the blanket draped over the two of you serving as neutrality to his frigid body temperature.

⤷ Fun fact; whenever you and Nagito are in this position, he draws various shapes into your skin with his fingers. At least, you assume these are random shapes that mean ultimately nothing.

⤷ But those imaginative drawings are not, in fact, random shapes but rather various rings; engagement rings.

⤷ As mentioned before, Nagito is, really and truly, a romantic. His heart is doused in hope for a future alongside you; a future where he’s still the one to be held in your arms like this.

⤷ He merely hopes that you’d want the same. Perhaps one day you’ll peer closer and decipher the arrays of invisible wedding rings Nagito has drawn into your skin with his fingertips. Or perhaps you’ll never know.

⤷ Though he doesn’t dwell over those idealistic thoughts for much longer as he holds you closer, pressing a kiss against your cloth-covered collarbone, smiling down at you.

⤷ Nagito knows full well that being in a relationship with you, much less a mutually gratifying one, was a shot of luck. Wishful thinking of marriage seems like a dream too far to reach.

⤷ But the hope within his heart burns strong. And its ember combusts into uncontrollable flames when he finds himself cradled by you. It’s wishful thinking, _but scum like him can dream, right?_


	9. ❝GENERAL RELATIONSHIP❞ Mikan—Headcanons

⤷ Mikan, for the life of her, refuses to confess first. She would rather be dragged through hell and back than make the first move.

⤷ She _does_ have feelings for you, of course. But the fear of rejection—or even worse, abandonment—pushes her far from any initiation of pursuing you.

⤷ So truly it’s all dependent on you whether or not these feelings are acted upon and a potential relationship is given the chance to blossom into a fluorescent bud.

⤷ But if you do take the initiative and confess to her she’ll likely have a delayed reaction. Possibly even assuming you weren’t talking to her and dwell on the momentary heartbreak before you call out her name; clarifying you were confessing to her.

⤷ Mikan will shed a few tears—if not, a waterfall—as she feverishly sprouts her exception and admits that she, herself, had been harboring feelings for you for quite some time.

⤷ It’s heartfelt sprouting of the bloom of your relationship; the garden of love you both mutually harbor blossoming as beautiful as that of a captivating rose.

⤷ Throughout your relationship, you and Mikan supposedly remained encapsulated within the honeymoon phase; never truly escaping the stage of culminated passion.

⤷ No matter how many months pass—no matter the endless hours spent within each other’s presence—it’s as though the romance never dies.

⤷ The lovestruck gleam within your gazes never dulls; the intertwining of your hands never slips, rather, you tighten your grip; the brushing of lips has never—not even for a moment—put either of you in anything other than an infatuated trance.

⤷ You two are enrolled in the same academy which, thankfully, grants you plenty of opportunities to interact throughout the day.

⤷ Sometimes even, if you’re yearning for her, you’ll pretend to be I'll or injured simply to be sent to the nurse’s office to see her. She instantly suspects of you doing so once you enter with that mischievous grin of yours.

⤷ Even as she half-heartedly scolds you for lying, she always supports a gentle smile upon her lips; euphoric to be within your presence. It warms her heart that you’d do such a thing to see her, it makes her feel wanted, and that’s the most she could ask for.

⤷ The time you’d both spent together was treasured. Whether it be on a date or simply running into one another in the hallway on your way to your next classes, every second was worth remembering.

⤷ Your dates would typically consist of stay-at-home movie nights under a shared blanket, cradling one another’s body close.

⤷ These dates would usually be held at your home due to Mikan’s unfortunate home situation, an issue you didn’t pressure her into admitting, but promised to provide your unconditional love and support to assist her in overcoming.

⤷ Within your home, Mikan feels the most comfortable; safe. There’s a sense of familiarity whenever she comes over; one that she can’t seem to get enough of. Perhaps it was the arrangement of abstract decorations that each held an embodiment of who you were; pieces of her lover.

⤷ Since you both had gotten together, Mikan has considerably grown, in terms of emotional stability.

⤷ Her nearly instinctual habit of apologizing profusely for any actions she takes that aren’t up to par with societal standards had noticeably declined during the span of your relationship.

⤷ You were empowering to her, allowing her to discover and revel in her strengths, acknowledging her worth, and assisting her in realizing her existence isn’t something to be sorry for.

⤷ You’d taken the fragments of her shattered esteem and helped her build herself into the version of herself she assumed were merely a dream; a lucid desire to be a person so great it’s unattainable.

⤷ Being with you had taught Mikan many things, and she genuinely could never think of a way to properly thank you for _everything_.

⤷ But she hopes that—true to your words—her love would be enough to suffice.

⤷ Her love came through the package of vocalized admiration and confessions; her heart spilling into her words of devotion towards you.

⤷ Whispered compliments drawn-out, dissolving within the solace atmosphere. Her words strung with the weaving of sincerity and genuine affection. She interlocks her heart into every syllable; every vowel. Her love was sewn into the utterances that escaped from between her lips.

⤷ Mikan’s love came through words of affirmation. Whilst yours were conveyed through your mediums.

⤷ Regardless, Mikan—for what she claims to be the first time in her life—was aware that you, really and truly, loved her. You cherished her. And she’d be damned if she didn’t reciprocate your love tenfold.

⤷ Despite preferring to be vocal with her affection, Mikan isn’t opposed to physical conveying of affection. Though it took her a bit to adjust at first. Sadly enough, she admits she isn’t accustomed to physical contact that wasn’t with ill intent.

⤷ So she found herself mesmerized at every brush of your hand against hers before interlocking, a reassuring squeeze to her hand as you smile. It’s foreign at the beginning, a touch that wasn't meant to harm her but rather to convey your innermost emotions; _innermost love_.

⤷ Truthfully, she cried the first time you held her hand. At first, she waited for you to let go and claim that you didn’t mean to grab her hand; you didn’t mean to touch someone like her. But you didn’t. Moments passed and you continued to hold onto her hand, even squeezing it to drag Mikan back to reality as tears brimmed her eyes.

⤷ She was in disbelief that you wanted to hold her hand; _you wanted to hold her close_ , cradle her within your grasp.

⤷ When the waterworks came, you panicked; worrier you’d upset her by initiating hand-holding without properly addressing it with her first.

⤷ As a repetitive string of apologies seeped from your lips, filling the air with desperate pleas for forgiveness, Mikan cut you off with an exclamation; _I love you_.

⤷ Her mood swings certainly threw you for a loop, yet it was yet another thing you found so fascinating about your precious girlfriend, Mikan. Her turbulent behavior was concerning at first, but you soon learned that-that was a part of who she was; her identity.

⤷ And you were going to appreciate her entirely; her strengths, her weaknesses, her turbulence; you’d cherish her completely.

⤷ A relationship with Mikan is filled with trial and error; conquer and growth; love and loss. To be in love with Mikan is to subsist in a neverending cycle of change, and yet one thing stays the same—sworn by voiced promises as the two of you intertwine hands, locking eyes—your love will remain unhindered, growing ever-more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so gay for Mikan please i- my mind is just.. mikan mindrot 25/8. i love her sm


	10. ❝COVETOUSNESS❞ Nagito—One-Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, nonconsensual, sacrilege, breaking and entering, somnophilia, fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, mentions of feeling like vomiting (distress), overstimulation, and hintings of forced pregnancy.

⤷ Humans—to their very core—are selfish. They yearn for what they can’t attain; for what they shouldn’t possess. Human instinct is derived from bitter selfishness, a desire to _take_ , _take_ , _take_ until they’ve withdrawn everything.

⤷ No matter Nagito’s constant resistance to such instincts, even he succumbs. Selfishness—uncontrollable avarice—is merely the fundamentals of humanity’s existence.

⤷ Despite how pitifully minor Nagito views his worth to be; how little he views his purpose to be; he’s still human.

⤷ And with being human comes an _animalistic_ drive. An uncontainable urge to tear into all that he yearns, to take what it is he lusts after.

⤷ Even as months pass, his livid attempts to suppress the temptations and submit himself under your guide; your hope; your will. He swears to himself that he merely wants to serve you.

⤷ His disillusionment riddled with fixation leads his mind astray, and perhaps that’s why he found himself perched outside your bedroom window, peering in through the crack of your curtain.

⤷ He’s aware that someone as worthless as him shouldn’t dare think of tainting your ethereal, divine figure with his touch. But his delusional ideals muddle his thoughts until he, himself, compromises to string along his yearning as well as his allegiance towards you.

⤷ It’s a complicated urge; a lustful temptation fueled by his innermost greed. Yet isn’t this another way to serve you? To bring forth your pleasure and watch you squirm in ecstasy? Isn’t this what it means to serve?

⤷ Too far gone within his ambitions of pleasing his beloved hope—his _god_ —his fingers trail along the underside of your bedroom window, tracing over the sill with his fingertips.

⤷ Yes, _yes_. The desire to ensure your pleasure was nothing more than his strive to serve you. Even as he knew someone scum like him have no business laying their grimy touch upon you, his fundamental, humanistic avarice distorted his belief; it’s not about his pleasure, it’s about yours.

⤷ Thus he repeated these words within the feverish, compulsive capsule of his mind as he tugged at the window, gently as to not disturb your rest; he wouldn’t dare want to bother you.

⤷ A click resonated within the nighttime air and Nagito’s lips curled to an eerie smile; _just his luck, the window was left unlocked._

⤷ With a singular, fluid motion, Nagito managed to open the window to its fullest; granting himself entrance within your abode.

⤷ He almost didn’t enter, too far flustered at the fact that he was about to enter within the encompass of your heavenly presence; _your sacred home_. Surely trash like him wasn’t welcome within the personal realms of his beloved hope. _But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness is not to be underestimated_.

⤷ As he pushes through, entering with a reluctant hop, a thump echoes against the walls of your bedroom. Yet it seems that his luck was abundant that night, you hadn’t even stirred within your rest.

⤷ It was within that moment that Nagito’s breathing grew erratic; unstable. Huffing jagged breaths as he admired your sleeping form with an all-too-prominent blush coating his cheeks.

⤷ You appeared so delicate from within this close—no, _intimate_ —proximity. Having spent months watching you from meters distance, this length felt almost forbidden; sinful.

⤷ It’s evident as though being this close to you was sinful itself. He knew all too well that scum like him shouldn’t dare approach you; shouldn’t dare go near; he wasn’t worthy of your divine presence. _He knows, he knows, he knows._

⤷ Yet that doesn’t stop his footsteps as he hovers over you, taking a closer peek at your visage in which was doused with the indications of slumber.

⤷ He was mere feet away from you, and that thought alone sent blood to his already flushed cheeks and straight down to where his pants began to strain; an erotic euphoria bubbling within his gut as he released a giddy giggle.

⤷ There you were, _there you were_. As he gently brushed the back of his hand against your cheek, his knuckles nuzzling against the plush skin, he stuttered out a breathless moan. You were there, he could _feel_ you.

⤷ And that realization—alone—was what cut the ropes; detaching Nagito from what was left of his morality as he climbed over your dormant body, straddling your hips.

⤷ Picking at the fruit of his desires, fingers clasping over the hem of your blanket, ready to reveal your heavenly figure to his ravishing eyes.

⤷ Nagito lost his external awareness, unable to decipher if the beating of his heart and the rapid, heavy breathing escaping his lips was even his own. Instead, his attention remained glued to you; to your divinity; to your ethereal, unconscious countenance.

⤷ It almost felt unreal, as though that very moment was nothing more than a merciless dream to torture his unattainable wishes and prove to him just how pathetic he was; _how greedy scum like him can be_.

⤷ But as he rocked his hips—grinding his clothed erection against your blanketed form—all his fears of this moment being nothing more than a dream had dispersed.

⤷ This pleasure was _real_. And it felt so, _so imprudent_. He should feel ashamed, and he did. He felt such an unfathomable amount of ignominy; his existence culminated to a mere disgrace.

⤷ Somewhere within his mind—somewhere tucked far within the depths of his disillusioned, fixated mind—he knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he doesn’t deserve to touch you like this. He knows putting his grimy hands on you is criminal. But his thoughts are clouded, _and_ _he no longer fucking cares._

⤷ The rocking of his hips jolts to a halt as he shakes his head, dismissing his own undeserving pleasure. This wasn’t about him, this was about you; relinquishing in your pleasure, fulfilling his role to serve you.

⤷ And thus, he discards your blanket, soaking in the sight of your body covered in nothing more than your pajamas. His already rosy cheeks flush further, sweat accumulating above his brow at your delicacy; your vulnerability. _How cute_.

⤷ As though your waist was a magnet, his hands instantly found themselves situated atop the exposed skin that managed to peek out from beneath your top.

⤷ A shudder wracked down Nagito’s spin, a shaky moan falling from between his lips as he gently squeezed the skin; familiarizing himself with your divinity. So soft, _so delectable_.

⤷ He found himself wanting to savor you; to treasure each moment through the means of time as he spends each mystical second hailing every centimeter of skin you bless his senses with. But it’s that damned ravishing instinct; his disgusting, filthy greed that persuades him to hasten.

⤷ Soon enough, his fingers find themselves curled around the hem of your pants, mentally preparing himself for the glory of tugging them down and witnessing the sacred grail of your panties. _Though he hungrily awaited the heavenly domain the aforementioned panties kept hidden._

⤷ It was a swift motion, but he tried to be as careful as he could muster. You—his precious deity, his glorious god—were still asleep, after all.

⤷ At the sight of your panties, Nagito chewed his bottom lip with fervor as he suppressed a groan. This is real, this is real, _this is real_.

⤷ Caught in a state of delusion and pure, unhindered ecstasy, Nagito attempted to ground himself to reality—this was real, he was truly feeling upon your divinity—brushing the tips of his index and middle finger over your clothed slit. _He could feel you_ ; he could feel your slick through the thin fabric of your panties.

⤷ The feeling of your juices coating your panties, faintly dampening his fingers, had unraveled waves of heat to his cock. Your juices; _your_ _arousal_.

⤷ Nothing could ever compare to the euphoria, the unhinged joy, he felt within that moment.

⤷ He could feel the hope you radiated in multitudes of waves. The intensity of your hope flustering him, dizzying him with adoration as he pants. A borderline maniacal cackle erupting from the back of his throat.

⤷ _This was it!_ This was what a worthless scum such as himself was meant to do; his purpose! He was meant to appease you, his sole meaning in his pitiful, miserable, despair-filled existence was nothing more than that; to appease the beacon of hope that radiates amongst mankind, his beloved savior, _his god_.

⤷ His mind fogged with the brimming of dazed insanity, he pounces; jumping the gun. Your panties sheltered your cunt no longer, exposing your most intimate parts to his ghost-green orbs; the same eyes that ravished the sight so hungrily, _starved._

⤷ His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, salivating at the sight. Of course, every part of you was faultless; perfection personified. He should’ve known your pussy—drooling with your slick—was no exception.

⤷ The temptations, the urge, the bitter greed that was pitted within his too-far-gone devotions overwhelmed him.

⤷ It was a constant battle between his self-degradation and self-absorption. He wanted to ravage you; milk you of your nectar.

⤷ Yet he was caught in a cobweb of confliction. Scum like him didn’t deserve to taste your delicacy. _Trash like him didn’t deserve to touch you so intimately._

⤷ He knew this. He knows, he knows, he knows, and yet he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not as his tongue drags over your slit, lapping over your wet cunt and humming at your flavorful dew.

⤷ It was addictive; your taste. As though he wasn’t already high—face flushed, sweat-coated brows, and bleary mind—he now found himself encapsulated within his ever-growing fixation. His adoration—no, _obsession;_ _his addiction_ —for you transitioned from a chrysalis of desire to an abyss of yearning.

⤷ Unable to cease his infatuation, he plunges his tongue into your forbidden flower; the glory that trash like him should never delve into. But he doesn’t give a damn about that now.

⤷ He’s aware of his status in comparison to yours. He shouldn’t even be within a mile radius of your sacred space; he shouldn’t be anywhere near you.

⤷ But that’s what made you so addictive; so cherished. He couldn’t get enough of your superiority, and that’s because trash like him will never be enough. He could never amount to your greatness—your holiness—so he takes. And he takes, and he takes, and he takes from you until he’s able to fill his worthless existence with a mere fraction of your inalienable hope.

⤷ _You’re his hope_. You’re his promise of a better tomorrow. You’re the beacon of light that ensures him that life is worth one more day. You’re the embodiment of his desires. You possess all his wants, and yet he only wants _you_.

⤷ He only wants to indulge in you; serve you; appease you; fulfill all that it is to please you. As he continues to suckle on your clit, lapping his tongue over the sensitive bud, a moan echoed within the bounds of your bedroom; _a moan that was not his own_.

⤷ You turn, and a groan of slumber escapes your lips. Nagito’s breath hitched as he pauses his ministrations, heart hammering within his chest in anticipation; _dread_.

⤷ A dread that warped into sickening excitement as you gasp; the result of a lick to your slit.

⤷ In that climactic second, your entire body stilled as your limbs began to tremble with absolute terror. At that very moment, you are painfully aware of the cold air brushing against your thighs; the cold air of another person’s breath against your exposed cunt.

⤷ A wicked, devious smirk resided on Nagito’s lips as he allowed his repressed chuckle to escape and resound within the tense atmosphere. _Just his luck, you were awake_.

⤷ He’s disturbed his beloved hope; his good. How shameful, how utterly audacious of him. How dare he stir you from your rest? Much less have your divinity awaken to witness his atrocious self; his existence that you should’ve gone about your merry life without realizing he existed.

⤷ But that doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done, and Nagito can only attempt to mend the inevitable errors he’s committed.

⤷ He’ll try to make amends of his wrongdoings by bringing forth your pleasure. He’s disturbed you, so why not make it all right through serving you? Just like he intended to do in the first place.

⤷ His tongue—formerly masquerading in quick frolics—now fervently diving and plunging into your core. Slurping your juices with such intensity as regard for your already disturbed slumber is dismissed.

⤷ Your hands press against his disheveled hair, tugging and attempting to push him away. Yet the sting of your fingers within his strands merely elicits a groan from his lips; the same moan that vibrates against your body, releasing a moan from your pretty lips that he adores.

⤷ The harmonious sound you’d let out motivating Nagito further as he tightens his right hand over your thigh, throwing it over his shoulder. His left-hand massaging your slit—teasingly—before thrusting two fingers at once.

⤷ Your stuttered moans are pitifully muffled by the biting of your bottom lip. You’re afraid; so very afraid. Why was this happening? _Why you?_

⤷ With his face buried between your thighs, you couldn’t get a clear view of his face to identify him. You wondered which would be worse; someone you knew or a stranger?

⤷ Regretful whimpers tumble from your lips as Nagito added yet another finger, his lips curled around your clit as he drew a harsh suck; one that forced a particularly loud moan from you.

⤷ He smiled against your cunt, giddy that someone as trashy as him could bring out such melodic noises from you. Yet this blossomed a hunger for more; more of your sounds and more of your pleasure. He wanted to watch you unravel over, and over, _and over_.

⤷ And—while you laid beneath him, squirming and writhing in both pleasure and an instinct to get away due to your terror—he was going to do so. He was going to milk you of your orgasms relentlessly, basking in your cum as he strives to bring you as much pleasure as scum like him can give.

⤷ As he pumped three digits into your sopping cunt, juices squelching upon contact, his pace only grew more rapid; hasty with the desire to feel you clench around his fingers; soaking him in your cum as you reach your climax. Faster and faster, his eyes interlock with yours as your mouth hung open, your heavenly moans filling the room.

⤷ Yet as your eyes meet, a terrifying realization causes your heart to drop to your stomach along with the unwanted bubbling of your oncoming orgasm.

⤷ You knew him. A bitter realization as your breathing both halted and grew more unstable. You knew him, you knew him, you knew him—tears cascading at the fact— _you knew him_ ; Nagito Komaeda, the infamous lucky student in the class below you.

⤷ Through the horrific pleasure of his fingers thrusting into you, a stuttered cry escapes your lips as you sob.

⤷ “Stop! Stop, plea— _ah!_ Komaeda, stop!” Your wails overcoming your unintentional yelps of wretched ecstasy. And paying heed to your pleas, he stops.

⤷ You feel relieved; _hopeful_. There’s a hope blossoming within your chest as you sought the possibility that he’d truly stop; leave you alone and never show his face to you for the remainder of your life, perhaps allowing you to forget this night ever occurred.

⤷ But once your eyes meet with Nagito’s ghostly green ones once again, you could hear the cracking of your spirit; the shattering of your hope. There’s something within his gaze. Something animalistic, _something so terrifyingly carnal_.

⤷ He didn’t stop. Not as you sobbed and pleaded for him to let go of you; to leave you alone. Not as you promised you wouldn’t tell a soul about this night if he’d just leave. But he didn’t leave. And he didn’t stop. _He wouldn’t stop_.

⤷ It hurt. Perhaps not physically—violating you pushing you into heaps of orgasmic pleasure—but emotionally; mentally.

⤷ Your sobs falling upon deaf ears as he removed his fingers from within you; unsheathing his digits in which were soaked in your juices. For once throughout the time you’ve laid conscious, he’s removed himself from you. Shifting his weight onto his knees, barely straddling you.

⤷ In that moment, you saw a chance; an opportunity. And as quickly as your hope had been shattered preciously, the fragments seemed to reassemble themselves; the broken aftermath of what was once whole.

⤷ Though as you prepared yourself to dash towards your bedroom door—half-naked and vulnerable—a sickening, gutwrenching sound haunts your ears; _the clanking of a belt buckle followed by the daunting friction of leather_.

⤷ You needed to run, and you needed to run _now_. Without a moment to waste, you used your utmost strength to shove the male back, and throwing yourself off of your bed.

⤷ Your body hit the wooden floorboards with a thump as you wheezed in exasperation; the wind knocking out of you. Yet you didn’t allow the minor setback to hold you down as you shoved yourself from the floor, sprinting towards the closed door.

⤷ It was close; so close you could almost wrap your fingers around the brass knob and release yourself from the confines of your bedroom; what you now considered the encompass of Hell itself.

⤷ As your fingers brushed against the doorknob, curling it to the left and successfully opening the door, a weight shoves itself against you; forcing your body to slam against the door—painfully—shutting it.

⤷ Your blood ran cold; turning to ice at the realization of what’s to come. _You were too slow_.

⤷ His calloused hands clasp over your body; one over your mouth whilst the other remains firmly atop your hip, squeezing at the plush skin. His breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he mutters something you’re unable to comprehend, much too focused on the painfully audible pulsating of your heart.

⤷ You had nowhere to run, and you surely couldn’t hide anywhere within your room. You were stuck. You were too slow and now he’s trapped you within what you had once assumed was the comforting, _safe_ confinement of your bedroom.

⤷ You could feel it; you could feel _him_. The unmistakable bulge pressing against your thigh serving as a searing reminder of what it is that’ll be taken from you by the arising of dawn.

⤷ Ever-so hopeful, you continue to thrash; fighting against his bludgeoning grip as you sob an onset of pleas for the possibility of persuasion. _But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness is not to be underestimated_.

⤷ It’s as though he’s unable to hear your begging; selectively falling deaf as he ravishes for what he yearns for. Despite his internal promising of committing such ludicrously was for you—much like all other actions he takes in his pathetic life—Nagito is bound by the foundations of his humane instincts; selfishness.

⤷ Even as he pushes himself into you, choking out an exaggerated, sinful groan as he savors the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, soaking him in your cum from your previous climax as he thrusts you into another.

⤷ He’s relentless; pounding into you as the ropes of his self-restraint are cut. The remnants of humanity long-lost within him as all that’s left is the barren chrysalis of fatal infatuation; narcissistic desire; the epitome of all that he once vowed to never become.

⤷ Over and over, he circles your clit, stimulating your nerves to draw out the cries of bliss that he adores. Your moans a mantra of pleas to his disillusioned ears.

⤷ Even when the buildup of pleasure became too much, reaching your fourth orgasm of the night rapidly, much to your dismay. The bubbles of elation became too much; it became painful.

⤷ Your legs trembled with shocks of exhaustion, jolting through your limbs in the form of cramps as you sobbed from the mental strain and the physical drain his tainted violation took on you. It hurts, it hurts so bad.

⤷ You wanted him to stop, pushing against his hips which were practically strapped to the curves of your ass, you attempted to put space between your body and his; granting yourself just the tiniest bit of relief from his unwanted touch.

⤷ But he wouldn’t allow that. He yearned to be closer to his hope—his deity—for he knew that the moments shared were temporary; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity graced by your divinity. And he wouldn’t waste a second of it.

⤷ “Please,” Your voice hoarse from the endless amounts of crying and screaming for release from his captivity. “No more. I can’t—“ But your continuous begging was interrupted by a voice you prayed to whoever would listen that you don’t hear his wretched voice for the rest of your days; the rest of your days in which you’ll attempt to fix the pieces of yourself he’d scattered.

⤷ “But you can, my beloved hope. I believe in your ability to keep going. You’re surging with the throbs of hope! _I can feel it!_ ” He rasped. His voice is cheery and upbeat as he panted breathlessly, pushing himself towards an orgasm of his own whilst you’re forced to endure your fifth.

⤷ “No! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, _I can’t!_ ” You yelped as the crown of his cock kissed against your cervix; a painful jolt shooting up your spine as you cry out. It hurts, everything hurts. Your abused pussy leaked heaps of your cum as the fluids drizzled onto the floorboards and your inner thighs.

⤷ “Don’t lose sight of hope, my darling deity. You are capable! Conquer the putrid tendrils of despair and provide me with another dose of your glory! I beg of you, please. Allow me this moment to—“ His tangent was cut off; his insanity and dazed glorification of obsession are not allowed another second of exposure as you scream.

⤷ “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” It’s loud; your voice ringing in your ears as you clench your fists.

⤷ This man—no, this-this _monster_ —was anything other than humane. He held not an ounce of sanity as his shaft twitched from within you at your outburst, groans escaping his lips at the sensation of you clenching as you shouted your proclamations.

⤷ This sick fuck found pleasure in the outing of his disturbing infatuation. So much so that he pressed his chest against your back as thick ropes of translucent cum fill within you; _his cum_.

⤷ The horrifying sensation of his heated seed gushing around his cock which still continued to pump into you—though at a much slower pace—pushed you to tears once more. You want to vomit, you want to empty all that’s inside your limp body; a body that no longer felt like your own.

⤷ He reached his climax through the use of your body as though you were a mere fleshlight; a toy simply for his volatile lust. _He came inside you_.

⤷ Suddenly the room was spinning, the door blending with the wall as the frame warped into unrecognizable shapes. Your body swayed—mind hazy as you swallowed back the traces of bile—before falling into the arms of the sole being you wished nothing more than despair upon.

⤷ He held you; cradled you within his arms as he whispered about _how good you were_. His cheeks flushed rosy with an unnatural, insane sense of longing.

⤷ “My darling deity, I can’t believe that scum like me managed to ensure you five peaks of ecstasy. What an honor for someone as trashy as me, to be nuzzled within your sacred blossom of hope. Ah, I truly am so lucky...” He rambled. It’s insane; his words, his gaze, his touch. Everything about Nagito Komaeda was—to its very core—insane.

⤷ “To think that someone as worthless as me, _as purposeless as me_ , could be given the gift of serving you like this.” He releases an airy chuckle as he guides you to your bed, laying you to rest once more. Your exhausted figure falling limp as you hit the mattress.

⤷ He leans over you, his breath fanning over your lips as he pauses, gazing into your eyes with a moment of what you believed to be the eyes of true depravity.

⤷ “I’ll follow you to the depths of Hell if I have to. Not a moment in my life will be spent without serving you; _worshipping you_.“ He continues to monologue, each sentence that leaves his lips muddled with riddled devotion; a promise you pray that he won’t keep.

⤷ His lips brush against yours as the lids of your eyes weigh more by the second. You can sense the warmth of his breath as his lips press against yours; not close enough for a proper kiss yet able to rub against yours. It’s an intimate proximity, but one you’d rather run through fire than share with him.

⤷ “My goddess, I’ll hail you until my dying breath, if your sincerest hopes will allow me.” Finally, he captures your lips with his own, pulling you in for a fleeting kiss that he hesitates in breaking.

⤷ As he pulls back, eyeing your now sleeping form, he couldn’t help but smile. A smile that surely would’ve stirred fear deep within your gut as swirls of delusion masqueraded within his ghostly green hues; a visage of addiction in its rawest form. _“My darling deity, I love you.”_


	11. ❝PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE❞ Nagito—One-Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); (N)SFW and cunnilingus (oral sex).

⤷ Truth be told, going down on you had always been a thought situated at the back of his mind when engaging in such erotic intimacy with you.

⤷ It’s a sexual fantasy of his; to swipe his tongue along your slit, collecting your dew and suffocating his senses in your clenching cunt. He dreams to taste you; to indulge in you.

⤷ Though despite how much he yearns to please you, and even follow your wishes of indulging in his own fantasies and pleasuring himself as well, he understood to respect your hesitancy to that particular act.

⤷ Nagito was one of many things, but he wasn’t going to force you into something he knew full well you weren’t comfortable with just yet.

⤷ He knew such a position was one that brought flourishes of vulnerability, and an uncomfortable exposure that you wished to ease into rather than dive in head-first.

⤷ You wanted time, and Nagito was more than willing to let you take as long as you need. Because honestly, he assumed you’d reject the idea without hesitancy, so he was more than willing to be patient.

⤷ At first, Nagito had assumed that you didn’t want him to go down on you. His mindset spiraling into the oh-so-familiar state of degradation that he put upon himself. He assumed that _he_ was the problem, but thankfully, you relentlessly reassured him of otherwise.

⤷ Truthfully, you wanted to do it and, of all people, you’d prefer Nagito to be the one you’d allow to see you so vulnerable. You trusted him, you truly did. But there seemingly was always an inkling of fear; insecurity. What if you didn’t live up to the expectations of his fantasy? What if it didn’t feel as good as you assumed? _What if something went wrong?_

⤷ It was this seed of worry that lead you to avoid such ministrations. Guiding his head back up to press kissed against your neck rather than any lower.

⤷ Months after the first time he’d proposed the idea, and you’ve yet to engage. Postponing further and further as the urge grows suffocatingly tempting. You want to, you truly do, but...to this point, you begin to wonder; _what’s holding you back?_

⤷ You question this as you find yourself laid atop the blanketed mattress within your shared bedroom, bare and exposed to Nagito’s eyes as he looms above you with a tantalizing hunger in his eyes.

⤷ As his eyes interlock with yours, they soften for a moment before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, capturing a patch of skin between his lips as he licks and suckles. He marks your skin, staking his claim as he continues to travel farther down.

⤷ But once his lips reach between the valley of your breasts, peppering your chest in fleeting kisses before moving to take your right, hardened nipple within his mouth, he doesn’t dare travel further. Even as he loses himself in the curves of your body, he firmly ingrains your comfort with each fervent kiss.

⤷ You notice this. You’ve always noticed this; the way he puts your comfort and wishes as his priority, even when dazed by his craving to ravish you.

⤷ So that’s why, as you reluctantly swallowed back the anxious lump in your throat, you cup his cheeks and direct have a gaze back to you. Confusion sparks within his ghostly green hues as you refer to him with a shaky grin. _“I think I’m ready.”_

⤷ It took a moment or two before he managed to muster out some sort of reaction. His eyes widened as his mouth gaped open; his visage was composed of pure surprise. Yet there were tracings of ill-disguised happiness as the corners of his lips twitched into a smile.

⤷ “Are you sure?” He questions. His eyes fixated on your expression of bashfulness, attempting to decipher any traces of possible regret. But you nodded with a smile that seemed much less restless, putting forth faith in your decision; faith in your trust within Nagito.

⤷ At your confirmation, his lips begin to explore realms of your frame that he restrained himself from setting upon before. Kissing and sucking on the plush skin that his mouth had yet to discover. The sensation of his moist mouth clasping over your thighs was _electrifying_.

⤷ Yet even as his tongue drags over your thighs with such zeal, you couldn’t help the anxieties that bubbled within you, tearing your gaze away from him, muffling your whines.

⤷ And after a few moments of teasing bites and particularly harsh sucks, he noticed your lack of audible moans.

⤷ His first thought was that what he was doing wasn’t what you enjoyed, hence your silence. But as he lifted his quizzical gaze to meet yours, he discovered that your hand had been firmly placed over your mouth; stifling all your harmonious cries.

⤷ Not only that, but your eyes were cast to the side, avoiding his countenance. As much as the sight caused Nagito’s heart to flutter—having always been a sucker for your shy nature—he wanted you to gaze upon him as he devoured you; he wanted to hear you as he pushed you to unravel from the sole use of his mouth.

⤷ Thus, he pushes himself up from between your legs and gently wraps his fingers around your wrists. This causes you to momentarily meet his eyes before hurriedly clenching yours shut, attempting to hide your flustered face behind your hands.

⤷ But Nagito pries them away before you could; his grip gentle yet firm, to assure that you don’t try to hide your beloved face from him.

⤷ “Love,” He begins, waiting for you to open your eyes. But you don’t. Chewing on your bottom lip in nervousness as you try your utmost best to not look at him. Everything in that moment felt so overwhelming, and your poor little heart was struggling to handle it.

⤷ “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You know I only want what you’d enjoy most, right?” He reassures you. His hands atop both of yours as he cradles them so gently. _And there it is, again._

⤷ Once more, you wonder what you continuously allow to hold you back from fulfilling your mutual desires; _you want this just as much as him_.

⤷ And even so, he’s respected every denial and even the current temporary false hope you’d provided. He’s been so patient with you, he’s been so good to you. It’s truly ludicrous that someone as considerate as him even exists. Much less that he also degrades himself constantly; degrading the person you truly believed to be the most respectful significant other to ever exist.

⤷ “No, no. I want to, I promise! It’s just...I’m just—“ You stumble over your words in an attempt to piece together _why_ you keep prolonging this. But you couldn’t formulate the words. Even as you stuttered and tries to come forth with a decent explanation, you couldn’t. _Did you even know why?_

⤷ Upon your silence, Nagito leaned forward to meet his lips with yours, drawing you in for a kiss. Finally, you open your eyes to meet his softened pair as he pulled away. Time seemed to still as you accepted that you didn’t truly have a reason other than the turmoil of emotions within you.

⤷ “I’m just nervous.” The words that fell from your lips were like mist, so subtle you almost assumed he didn’t hear you. But he did, and a breathy chuckle escaped him as he pecked your lips once more.

⤷ “Is that so?” He hums. You nod, tempted to break eye contact as embarrassment seeps into you. Your mind pacing with a flurry of anxieties. What kind of excuse is that? Nervous? Surely he sees you as pathetic now. What did you have to be nervous of? _You trust him, don’t you?_

⤷ Wallowing in remorse and self-pity as you suffocated within your shame, you tear your gaze away. But a sigh of relief forces your head to whirl back to gaze upon Nagito; the bearer of that sigh of relief.

⤷ “My hope, it’s okay to be nervous. Honestly, I’d be more alarmed if you _weren’t_ nervous.” He admits. You’re thrown into a state of disbelief; confusion.

⤷ Over and over, he reassures you and promises that your feelings are valid and normal. He promises that it’s okay to be nervous, you’re trying something new, after all.

⤷ His delicate words and consideration cause your heart to swell as your worries have relatively eased up. The fears—the anxiety—that seemed to cage you were eased, almost as though they were never there. It’s almost terrifying how easily he could calm you.

⤷ Nagito allowed his words to hang in the air as you processed it all. He respectively awaited your answer, pleased, regardless of what it’d be. Because Nagito’s relief had stemmed from your ability to confide in him, and that means more than any form of sexual pleasure.

⤷ As you exhale, sighing out the last of your contemplation, you meet his eyes with a much more confident visage.

⤷ “I want to do this. I really do.” A voiced affirmation, and one that you felt assured of. You wanted this and, even through your nervousness, you genuinely wanted this.

⤷ Once again, he trails kisses along your body; from your jaw all the way to your thighs. Each kiss brushed over with a swipe of his tongue, teasingly stimulating you.

⤷ With each peck, he lowers. Closer and closer as you begin to anxiously squirm. It’s still so nerve-wracking, but you’ve culminated a determination to follow through. Despite your bashfulness causing you to tear your gaze away from Nagito.

⤷ This time, he’s not so forgiving as his teeth gently clamp down onto your thigh. You yelp, moaning out in slight pain and surprise as you turn your head back towards him; gazing as his head was tucked between your thighs, breath fanning over your pussy whilst his green orbs pierced into yours.

⤷ “Keep your eyes on me.” He ordered before tentatively rubbing his tongue over the bite mark as an unspoken apology. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as arousal overcomes you at his unnaturally assertive nature.

⤷ You oblige; keeping your eyes trained on his face as he returns to his ministrations. Heart thumping and ringing in your ears, you gasp as a Nagito dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit.

⤷ He hums, a serene chuckle resonating from the back of his throat before he circles his tongue around your clit. Soon enough, his lips curl around the bud, suckling gently as to avoid hurting you, yet stimulating you enough to release a small shriek.

⤷ After the initial slurp—the testing of new water—Nagito found himself encapsulated within a trance; his lips popping off of your bundle of nerves before plunging his tongue into your tight, drooling cunt repeatedly. Over and over, he continuously yearned for more of you; more of your flavor. _You tasted heavenly_.

⤷ Restlessly circling his tongue from within you, familiarizing himself with your walls as he douses himself in your juices; his senses engulfed with you in your entirety. And he adored every second of it.

⤷ Just like he adored the squeals of euphoria followed by your alluringly baritone moans that eagerly shot blood to his erection, straining against his pants with full intent to be sheathed within you. But he, too, wanted to savor your tastes.

⤷ With each slurp, you found yourself edging towards your release. Your toes curling, spurts of shock stunning your legs as you twitch and squirm, attempting to make some distance between the nearly unbearable waves of pleasure.

⤷ But Nagito kept a firm grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin. His mouth relentless upon his ravishing; he wanted to taste you as you reach your high, and he wants you to ride it out as his tongue swirls within you.

⤷ It only took a mere few seconds before you let out a particularly loud whine, tremors wracking through your body as your cunt squirts your juices; your cum drizzling down Nagito’s chin as he hungrily laps it up.

⤷ “Nagi— _Ah!_ ” You attempt to speak—voice hoarse and raspy—but the aftershock of your orgasm causing your pussy to be far more sensitive. Every kitten lick Nagito takes is intensified as you pant.

⤷ And soon enough, everything stills. Your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as Nagito finally arises from between your thighs, his bottom lip and chin drizzled with your cum.

⤷ The sight flusters you as you gaped. His tongue dragged over your nectar, eagerly relishing in the remains of your orgasm as he grinned.

⤷ “So, how was it?” He asks, curious to your perspective; after all, you were very hesitant prior. It warms your heart how, even after everything, your well-being is the main thing on his mind.

⤷ With an exhausted sigh, you wrap your arms around your lover’s neck, tugging him down onto the bed with you. His clothed chest pressed against your bare one as you held him close, the delicate pulsating of your hearts sloppily synchronize. _“It was amazing. Thank you, ”_


	12. ❝GENERAL NSFW❞ Yandere! Mikan—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, nonconsensual somnophilia, drugging, manipulation, blood (taking of blood samples), blood kink, consumption of blood, cum eating, mentions of piss (watersports), masturbation, use of sex toys, mentions of needles, and intentional misuse of medical supplies. (Things do get pretty fucked and gross, please pay attention to the warnings!)

⤷ She’s calculating and rapacious; plotting all the ways she can get you to succumb to her. She practically thrives in the vulnerability you’ve unknowingly put upon yourself due to the blind trust you’ve put in her.

⤷ As hopelessly in love as she was, Mikan was aware; she knew that it was far too soon and sudden to formally ask you to engage in such bare intimacy with her. She was also aware of the possibility that you wouldn’t even _want_ to do something so lewd with her.

⤷ But she can’t help herself. So much has been taken from her by those who’ve recognized her weaknesses, her bullies taking anything and everything as she’s unable to do a thing. _Isn’t it only right that she’s a little selfish?_

⤷ It’s not like you’d mind, of course. _You can’t mind something if you don’t even know it’s happening, right?_

⤷ Mikan’s desires surge through her with insuppressible fervor. Yet she wouldn’t dare do something so reckless; she wouldn’t dare run the risk of tarnishing your treasured friendship.

⤷ So she covers her tracks. She takes full advantage of your trust within her as a friend and the faith you’ve put within her talents as a nurse. A common tactic she’s picked up is replacing the sugar within your tea—which she orders you to drink to retain good health—with a finely powdered drug; their appearances akin with only a minuscule difference.

⤷ After drinking, you’ll subconsciously succumb to the effects of the drug within fifteen minutes, and then she’ll begin her ministrations; pampering your unconscious body and exploring your most intimate realms.

⤷ A hidden utopia reserved for only the eyes of those you’ve allowed seeing you so bare; so exposed. And, even if you hadn’t known it, Mikan was those eyes. Peering down at you so sickeningly gleefully as she thinks to herself; _Your body, sprawled beneath her, was all for her._

⤷ As you’re knocked out, there isn’t an inch of skin she doesn’t smother in sloppy, wet kisses. Her breathing rapid and crazed.

⤷ She savors each moment; relishing in your taste as she sears the memory of every sensation into her core memories. _She will never allow herself to forget the blissful oasis of her beloved’s body._

⤷ At first, you’d only assumed that your state of fatigue and extreme exhaustion were the aftermaths of stress. It was understandable; that week had been your finals week.

⤷ And yet, it kept happening; moments where you feel fine, but then you’ll experience powerful waves of nausea before slipping unconscious. So much so, that you asked Mikan about it, of course. She _was_ the Ultimate Nurse, after all.

⤷ Just like you expected, she managed to deduce the possible reasonings behind your experiences. Even going as far as to pinpoint habits that are a common occurrence before you fall into such a vertiginous state.

⤷ “W-Well, typically it’s when you’ve consumed a beverage with sugar.” She deducted, a thoughtful visage as her soft features sharpened with determination. “If I remember right, you’d felt particularly nauseous after you drank tea with sugar that one time.”

⤷ “That can’t be a coincidence though! It happened another time too. Remember when I gave you those sugar cookies? You fell unconscious from those too...” She ponders, her bottom lip jutting out in thought. Your eyes widen as the dots connect internally. That is true, all the instances had been induced as you’d consumed anything with sugar.

⤷ “If you’d like—“ Mikan’s voice cuts out as she nervously squirms under your curious gaze, her hesitant nature bringing a smile to your lips. “Take your time.” You assure her, placing your hand over hers to, hopefully, calm her nerves. _If only you knew what you did to her and her poor little heart_.

⤷ “W-Well I just thought that if I took some blood samples, I-I could confirm my suspicions!” She exclaims, cheeks flushed as her gaze remained fixated on your hand atop her own.

⤷ Your eyes widen once more as they glimmer with surprise and appreciation. “Would you really do that for me?!” She’s taken aback by your exclamation, accidentally tearing her hand from yours as she falls backs.

⤷ But she’s quick to recover, smile faltering at the lost connection of your hand with hers. “Of course!” She confesses.

⤷ And that’s how it began, her odd secondary obsession. _Behind you, of course_.

⤷ You hadn’t given her suggestions much thought other than that you trust Mikan, and what she was doing was simply what’s best for you. This was her talent, her field. If you couldn’t trust her with what she did best, who could you possibly trust?

⤷ So she began taking samples of your blood. At first, it was only a weekly thing. Once a week, she’d draw out enough blood to fill a miniature capsule and examine it to determine the underlying causes for your sudden fits of falling unconscious. Though she was more than aware of the true reason.

⤷ For each blood sample she took, she returned to you with the discovery that the amount of glucose within your blood was alarmingly high, and that her hypothesis was, in fact, correct.

⤷ But that’s all lies. Lies, lies, _lies_ that you oh-so-helplessly believe. Mikan’s the nurse, she knows best. Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best, Mikan knows best!

⤷ Regardless, you believed her. And you provided her the weekly blood samples as she instructed. Though it was a bit tedious to have the pricking of a needle within your arm so often, it was better than randomly passing out at the most unfortunate of times.

⤷ Once she collected the capsules, she informed you that she’d take them back to her house where she can perform more _thorough_ research. Since all of her equipment is there, of course!

⤷ You don’t question it. Not even as you wonder what she’d done with the capsules after weeks of no word of them. Surely she threw them away. You shouldn’t question her, you trust her, after all!

⤷ If only you’d questioned her. If only you’d taken the second to doubt her; debunk your trust in her. Perhaps then you’d have realized the red flags within everything.

⤷ Within the confines of her bedroom, Mikan’s moans are barely concealed as she unscrews the capsule filled with the familiar crimson liquid; _your blood_.

⤷ Her mind is fuzzy with the idea of her possessing such a fluid. Your fluid, of all things. Her obsession fueled further as she coats her fingers in the viscous liquid. It was still warm, still so fresh from within you. The thought of how this blood was once within your body sends jolts of depraved pleasure down her spine.

⤷ She lathers the blood around her fingers, savoring the sensation. A shaky sigh of ecstasy escaping her lips as she stutters out a moan. Everything was so overwhelming at that moment. She was in disbelief, yet oh-so alarmingly aware. This was your blood. _This was your blood_.

⤷ “Ha... _Aha!_ ” A delirious moan escaping her lips as she swirls her blood-coated fingers over her clit. The stimulation paired with the searing reminder that it was your blood beginning to smear over her clit instantly sent tremors through her legs.

⤷ The pleasure felt so intense; so very intense. Even as she has pumps two fingers into her pussy, stretching herself out as your blood coats her walls, it all felt so intense. Almost unbearable. The feeling of your blood within her driving her to the brink of insanity as if she hadn’t already plunged into the abyss of madness.

⤷ Yet even as her fingers continued to plunge into her sopping cunt—her slick blending with your blood—she couldn’t help but yearn for more. She wanted to have your blood coat her walls entirely. And her petite fingers simply wouldn’t do.

⤷ Thankfully, she has just the thing. Within her hands she cradles a dildo, having already removed her two digits from her cunt as she eagerly drags her fist down the girth of the toy. It’s lengthy. _Good_.

⤷ She grabs the previously discarded capsule which still withheld blood. Perfect; everything was perfect.

⤷ Mikan tilted the small bottle, drizzling the viscous crimson fluid as it glazed over the dildo, painting its pink exterior in a contrasting red.

⤷ As the bottle emptied, the last of your blood poured onto the toy, an eerie giggle escaped Mikan’s lips. Her eyes swirling with psychotic euphoria as she pumped the blood upon the length of the dildo. Successfully smearing the blood all over the toy, not a trace left untouched.

⤷ Her breathing turned erratic. Huffs of air forced from her lungs as she sunk onto the blood-coated toy. It stung; the stretch searing through her senses as she gasped, squirming in discomfort. And yet, _it felt so damn good._

⤷ Your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her, your blood was inside her—

⤷ The idea driving her mad as she bounced, squelching air bubbles caused by the drool of her pussy mixed with the blood, arousal poisoning the air as she released an unsettling laugh, moaning mid-way through.

⤷ _This_ was it. _This was true happiness!_ To be filled with your fluids, no matter what they made be. Stuffing her pussy full of you and anything reminiscent of you. _This was true ecstasy._

⤷ The blood upon the tip of the dildo nuzzling against her cervix—painfully—yet smearing your blood deep within her.

⤷ It’s painful. Her thighs ache as she bounces, yet she craves the stimulation; the pleasure. It’s so overwhelming she trembles, shaking until she’s attempting to squirm and retreat from the toy as her orgasm begins to bubble within her stomach, ready to boil over.

⤷ And so, the string snaps; her climax washing over her with violent shudders and breathless sobs. Her cum oozing around the base of the dildo as the length remains snuggled within her clenching pussy.

⤷ Mikan breathes heavily, shifting her weight to ease her knees as she moans. Every movement forced a jolt down her spine, her cunt throbbing with sensitivity.

⤷ Mikan breathes heavily, shifting her weight to ease her knees as she moans. Every movement forced a jolt down her spine, her cunt throbbing with sensitivity.

⤷ It was a rosy hue; the translucent, milky white of her orgasm and your deep vermillion blood mixed together. The dew an embodiment of the connection you and her shared; your shared fluids mixed into an addictive concoction.

⤷ Mikan brings her fingers to her lips, sucking on the mixture as she licks her digits clean. It tastes so good; _it tastes like love_. It tastes precisely like the bond you two shared, a bittersweet cocktail.

⤷ And as she layed spewing your combined mixture of love—an unknowing commitment and the blossoming of yet another depraved addiction—she couldn’t help but grin. She couldn’t wait for how many more times she’d pleasure herself with your fluids.

⤷ What more could she take from you? What more could she use to satisfy her needs, yet keeping a piece of you with her? She wanted more. She needed more. But she knew better than to be impatient.

⤷ One day, you’ll willingly engage in such ludicrous acts with her. One day, you’ll provide her with whichever fluid she selects; blood, cum, spit. Hell, she’d even accept your piss. She just wanted more of you, you, _you!_

⤷ She’ll wait. She’d wait a millenial for you; lifetimes. If it’s for you, she’ll do anything and everything. But for now, she’ll settle on waiting; waiting as your blood coats the valleys of her pussy’s walls. _If she can’t get **you** , she’ll get the next best thing._


	13. ❝GENERAL RELATIONSHIP❞ Nagito—Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Nagito’s self-degradation, but that’s about it! The rest is just fluff with your local best boy!

⤷ Of all Nagito’s infatuations—his obsession with the conception of hope and the conquest of despair—he truly took his admiration for you to push upon his utmost limits.

⤷ He sought those who harbored the quintessential fundaments of hope; an eye in which views the world under a stardust-flickered lens.

⤷ When he’d first met you, his crazed fixation of idealizations had fogged his mind, preventing him from truly familiarizing himself with you. He was blinded, unable to appreciate you due to his incompetence.

⤷ So once he was able to clear the mist of peculiar fascination, it was as though he’d transferred from one fixation to another. It only took a bit for him to withdraw an introduction from you, and provide the same upon your request. But as he gazed into your eyes—a sheen of blossoming delight within them—he found himself ardent.

⤷ When Nagito loves, he obsesses. His tendencies to fixate push him forth to do all that he’s capable of to serve the dawn of his piqued desire within the span of his worthless existence.

⤷ That’s why he provides unconditional service for you; withdrawing your workload and providing you with the moments of solace a celestial like you deserves.

⤷ By any chance that you’re hungry whilst he’s around? Not to worry! He’s already on his way to pick up whatever it is you’re craving. And better yet, he’ll even make it himself if it isn’t available.

⤷ He’s fully devoted to making sure your life is as easy as possible, willfully claiming to be a stepping stone for you. Though you’ve reprimanded him multiple times for his claims, he’s yet to cease his desire to provide for you.

⤷ Expecting a proper confession from Nagito would be a miracle; the slim chance within a lifetime. Every proclamation of love drizzled in his treacle idiosyncrasy to riddle his subtle confessions with monologues of all that he finds celestial about you. News flash, he views you as faultless.

⤷ In all honesty, a proper confession will be through you. So whether or not his infatuations are even fractionally mutual is dependent on your enactment. But his love through the conveyances of acts of service and affectionate praise gradually do capture your heart.

⤷ The lovestruck, luck-centric male follows you around as though he were a baby duck. A sight that you—admittedly—thought was adorable. He trails behind you, eager to discover any way to help you whilst also being close to you.

⤷ It wasn’t difficult for you to piece together the truth of his feelings for you; romantic feelings. Besides, you’d be a fool to miss the radiant flush on his cheeks that provides his pale, borderline sickly skin with a rosy glow.

⤷ Eventually, if you decide to act upon the mutual fondness, you’ll provide him with a proper confession.

⤷ His reaction to your words—to your offer of being his lover and caring for him as yours—was to assume you were merely joking. After all, why on Earth would a divinity, a beacon of hope, such as yourself want to associate with scum like him? Much less, be his lover?

⤷ Your first confession was dismissed by him due to his genuine portrayal of your returned affections being a lighthearted joke.

⤷ But after the second, and the third, and the fourth, he was gradually beginning to accept that maybe— _just maybe_ —your returned love wasn’t a dream too far out of reach.

⤷ After the sixth confession, Nagito accepts. Albeit reluctantly. He feared that after he’d accepted, you’d merely laugh and claim it’d been a joke the whole time and he _finally_ fell for it.

⤷ But you didn’t. Even as he flinched when you took his hands in yours—interlocking your fingers—in a habitual conveyance of your joy, you didn’t.

⤷ Perhaps it was instinctual to assume that he’d be tossed to the curb. A worthless nobody such as himself had no right to be with you. And yet, that fateful day, he still found himself with you, nuzzled within your embrace.

⤷ As a partner, Nagito’s love language is certainly acts of service. Despite his ability to ramble about your incredulous existence for eons, his heart truly is strung together upon his eagerness to do all that he can to remove any stressors from your life.

⤷ If you’re feeling particularly exhausted one day, he offers to do all your chores for you and allow you to rest. Got any errands to run? He’ll be more than happy to do those too.

⤷ It’s a form of compassion that he doesn’t accept to be reciprocated. So if you ever go out of your way to do something in favor of him not having to, his heart will certainly melt. Although he attempts to deny your offer, promising he can do it himself, he’s appreciative that you counter back just as persistently. It makes him feel so, so cared for; _something he never thought himself to have to be accustomed to until he got with you_.

⤷ Throughout your relationship, Nagito’s views of himself as turbulent. He still doesn’t think of himself as worthy of your love; he still thinks of his existence as nothing but a mere inconvenience. But there are times where you’ve truly alleviated those perceptions and allowed him to relish within the hope that he isn’t as lowly as he assumes.

⤷ It’s a sequence of ups-and-downs; a timeline of irreplaceable euphoria upon shared memories that’ll uphold against the test of time and the taunting periods of melancholy.

⤷ Nagito, as a lover, is far from perfect. He devotes himself entirely; whether that’s beneficial or not. Sometimes his portrayal of compassion is deemed as obsession, sending across the wrong interpretation of what he truly yearns for.

⤷ He wants to love, he truly does. And—even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it—he wants to _be loved_. And for as long as you share his love, returning it to him even if by only a fraction of what he gives, that’s enough for him.


	14. ❝HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT❞ Kokichi—One-Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, established relationship, manipulation, emotional abuse, possessiveness, and insecure thoughts (reader).

⤷ He’s cunning; calculating all the ways he can use your weaknesses to his advantage. Truthfully, he’s the reason you have a desperate need to pledge your claim on him. He made you this way; riddled in insecurities, fearing that you’ll never be enough for him.

⤷ The constant malice laced with faux, brutal honesty in his words as he admits that if you get boring, he’ll leave you. In the way he drops such soul-shattering admissions without a care terrified you. _Were you that easy to discard?_

⤷ And thus spiraled your fogged mind of whether or not what you do is spontaneous enough. Is it enough to be deemed unpredictable? Will it keep him interested? _Will he be entertained?_

⤷ It’s a cruel, sadistic game that he’s forced your self-assurance to play. Constantly chasing after him as he turns his back to you, threatening you with the shackles of abandonment.

⤷ He’s caged you in a mindset where you cannot rely on trust any longer. Trusting a deceiver would bring you nothing but heartbreak; you’ve had to bear this lesson far too many times to relive it once more. Trust—in this corrupted love—was a vice.

⤷ So you took it into your cold, dead hands to carry the burden of ensuring that your lover remains. Wary glances of where he runs off to, heart worrying away over who he could possibly be with at that very moment. _Who has he deemed worthy of his invaluable time now?_

⤷ You fret over any and all possibilities. Perhaps he finds someone more deserving of his time, leaving you for them in the blink of an eye. Or perhaps he simply grows tired of you, your existence proving to be far too predictable and not suitable to his adrenaline-crazed tastes.

⤷ In every moment, you fixate on the where his eyes flicker when he’s with you. It’s taunting, the distraught of catching him looking at someone else. _Someone other than you_.

⤷ And he knows this. He’s more than aware of how worriedly you follow his gazes, hoping not to find another person they’re directed towards. It’s a realization he plans to use to the fullest, caving in whatever sense of self-esteem you had that maybe— _just maybe_ —he only had eyes for you.

⤷ But having faith in such a deceitful individual was a mistake you’ve made far too many times. Even now as you follow Kokichi’s eyes to settle upon a figure.

⤷ Your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, an unruly pang piercing your conviction with the tendrils of a distorted reality; he’s gazing upon someone else.

⤷ That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. _That’s not you_ —

⤷ “Kokichi, what are you looking at?” You cut the suffocating silence. Your breaths uneven as the functioning of your lungs felt labored. Throat contracting in anxiety, you swore you wouldn’t be able to hear his—inevitably deleterious—reply over the deafening pulsating of your heart.

⤷ “Just someone.” He mutters. But you see it, you notice what you prayed was merely an illusory of your culminated fears; he wouldn’t take his eyes off them. Not even as he replied to you. Not even as you tightened the grip on your intertwined hands. _He wouldn’t stop looking at them_.

⤷ In that moment, you could only describe it as the relentless tearing of your fragile heart. The desire to be his faithful partner in which such devotion is reciprocated is tattered with disdain.

⤷ You’re replaceable. In what you believed were the earnest eyes of Kokichi Oma, you were to be repudiated.

⤷ As your eyes tear up and you begin to drag your boyfriend away, successfully garnering his attention away from that supposed stranger at long last, your blurred vision and hasty steps led you to miss the deviously depraved grin of his that was far too sinisterly crooked.

⤷ Your reactions, your blind fury, and innermost apprehensions were so amusing; so comically enthralling. It’s no wonder he promises the two of you are sworn lovers; you never cease to stun him.

⤷ Once you two have reached a somewhat secluded area and far enough from the previous scene in which your heart ached to think about, you turned to Kokichi with such a catastrophic sheen of betrayal yet interlaced with the poison of envisage. _You had expected this, hadn’t you?_

⤷ “Why?” The words hang in the tense air as you peer down at the ground below, unable to meet his eyes in which—to your expectancy—darkened with the tainting of rejection; rejection of you.

⤷ This was a game that seemed far too easy for the cunning boy. It was as though you’d granted him the key to your mind, allowing him to feverishly jeopardize your self-reverence.

⤷ “What do you mean?” It’s a simple question; a plead of elaboration. But Kokichi knows all-too-well what plagued root pollute his intentions. He wants to see you break. _And it seems like he’ll be getting exactly what he wants_.

⤷ “What do I mean? Kokichi, _what do I mean?!_ ” You sharply inhale, your breathing sporadic as tears spill from your eyes.

⤷ “Stop playing dumb for once! Just tell me, just say it to my face, Kokichi! Are you tired of me?!” It’s a shout that tears your throat raw, emotion seeping into each word, woven with the most intricate of desperation.

⤷ He sees how you’re beginning to lose yourself; losing your self-respect as you claw at all that he’s formulated to define you. It’s as he’d planned, _you need him_.

⤷ And it should’ve ended the moment he’d realized how far gone your independence has been muddled upon his taxing gambling upon your mind. But he didn’t. It was far too amusing to stop now. _Your desperation for his affections to be for you—solely for you—were addictive, and he wanted more of it._

⤷ So, as he cradled you, drawing you closer and inviting you to seek comfort within his bodily warmth, he suppresses a wicked cackle.

⤷ Whispering promises that you were still the one whom held his heart captive; you, you, you! And as pitifully naïve as you are, you decide to believe in him once more.

⤷ Perhaps you’d never believed him, and rather sought out an excuse that brought the most comfort to you. Attempting to piece together your fragmented self-assurance, you depended on the contentment of his promises. _Even if they were nothing more than the lies you’ve come to confide in._


	15. ❝HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT❞ Nagito—One-Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s); Yandere themes, established relationship, insecure thoughts (reader), sacrilege, worship, implications of Stockholm syndrome, self-harm (Nagito), blood, slight gore, attempted suicide, and mentions of hospitalization.

⤷ A sworn worshipper; Nagito will go to the ends of the Earth to prove his devotion to his darling. His heart belongs solely to you, interlocked between the weaving of your hypnotic web as he hails you.

⤷ He believes with the entirety of his worthless being that you are a divinity; a deity amongst purposeless nobodies that serve as nothing more than your stepping stone. But he believes you are merciful.

⤷ After all, if you had not been so graciously charitable, you’d have no associated with a low-life such as himself. Much less, willingly put yourself in a relationship with him.

⤷ It’s a blissful thought; to think that he could mean something to someone. _To have some sort of negligible value_.

⤷ But it’s one that he cannot take to heart. His worth lies on whether or not he can serve you—his darling deity—to the best of his lousy ability. He’ll happily dedicate his life to you.

⤷ Far-too-gone in the abyss of infatuation, Nagito finds himself unable to properly comprehend how someone so ethereal—someone so celestial—couldn’t see their blinding eminence.

⤷ He genuinely believed the notion of insecurity was foreign to you; a vulnerability that the embodiment of all that is heavenly shouldn’t identify with. And yet he is forced to acknowledge that his lover—his one true hope—is unbearably familiar with such a plagued enigma.

⤷ Your sporadic hues narrowing at those who meet eyes with Nagito. The common practice of smiles directed towards strangers irked you; they were smiling at Nagito. Was he familiar with them? How was their smile comparable to yours? Could it rival yours, the one he claimed to encapsulate his heart?

⤷ An inkling of doubt resided within you whenever another was involved with your boyfriend. You understood full-well how much he loved you, but love is as empowering as it is contagious.

⤷ You know that these fears are nothing more than that; a drop of blood in which dirties the pure waters of reassurance. You’re aware your reactions are exaggerated, a caricature in comparison to the situation. _But then why did he bother to smile back?_

⤷ The thought resides within the back of your consciousness as you ponder over it. Certainly, it was no big deal. But why did it spur such an ache within your heart? Why do you feel the insuppressible urge to vacate the vicinity right within that moment?

⤷ It hurt to think. A torment so grand at the minuscule possibility that-that mutual exchange of smiles meant something more. Was it possible for Nagito—who pledges full allegiance with you as his faultless god—to fall through the clutches of your claim?

⤷ He devoted himself to you, that much you were sure of. Upon your first true meeting, he terrified you to your very core. You insisted that there was something wrong with him; something sickeningly distorted within his fogged mind of fixation.

⤷ But over time, after the relentless admissions that he wants nothing more than to serve you; worship you; love you; you’d eased into his proclamations. His depravity, albeit sinister and channeled with great fault, was out of his love for you; his pure loyalty and devotion.

⤷ So why had you continued to doubt him? He told you himself, didn’t he? He loves you more than anyone else could, more than anyone else could ever be capable of. And despite this, he still admits to viewing himself as mere scum, unworthy of your love but whose purpose is to worship and hail you.

⤷ Could it be that he’d ever sought out someone he’d believe himself to be worthy of association? Would he truly leave you for someone he deemed, too, as lowly as him?

⤷ Your thoughts have riddled themself until there’s a gaping hole within your heart—a cavity that’s sunk itself deep within the caverns of your gravitated love—and within his home that you two enter, hand-in-hand, you allow your visage to crack.

⤷ One sob after another, your knees give out from beneath you, harshly meeting with the wooden floorboards.

⤷ The sound startling Nagito as he turns to you with concern evident within the stitch of his brows. Instantaneously, he drops to where you were seated on the floor, weeping away as sobs scratched your throat raw.

⤷ “My love, what’s wrong?” He questions. His heart thumping within his ears as he cradles you, swaying your bodies ever-so-slowly in order to soothe you. Thus your crying turned erratic as you clutched against the fabric of his jacket.

⤷ He holds you so gently, he embraces you with such a warmth pooling from his heart. _Did you really have any right to doubt him?_

⤷ Yet it spurs such pain as the flashing of his reciprocated smile loops within your mind. Over and over, eating away at your self-restraint as you blubber; _Did that smile mean anything?_

⤷ He pauses, attempting to register your words. But they’re far too vague for him to properly process, and he pulls away from the embrace to face you with a perplexed countenance.

⤷ “Y-You smiled at that one person a-and—and...I just felt—“ Before you could continue, a sob escaped between your quivering lips. Your throat ripped dry as you began to question why you were crying so hard.

⤷ But before you could continue, Nagito pulled away from the embrace completely. Unfortunately, putting the worst possible conclusion within your mind as your breakdown was amplified.

⤷ Why did he move away? Why, why, why, why, _why?_ Is this it? Have you finally wrung out your time with him? _Is it finally over?_

⤷ Though your momentary doubt was put to a halt as Nagito presses his hands against his chest, gesturing towards himself, frantically.

⤷ His eyes dilated with depravity interlaced by the seams of desperation. His lips curled into a crooked grin as his breathing came out in sporadic huffs.

⤷ “No, no, no, no, _no!_ My beloved hope, this is just a misunderstanding.” He confesses. His hands visibly shaking as he seems to tremble from the possibility that his darling deity would ever be put under such pain from his incompetence to outwardly convey his true, unhindered love.

⤷ “I’m merely scum beneath the soles of your shoes, I’ve caused this misinterpretation due to my ignorance. I shouldn’t even wield the right to say, my beloved, please forgive me.” He rambled. With each word, his breathing was becoming more prominent to you. It’s heavy; panicked; furious.

⤷ “I promise to you, I am solely yours. Your stepping stone towards renouncing the world of its despair. Your follower even through the flames of societal Hell. I am yours, and only yours.” His hand moves to grab a hold of yours, but he quickly shrinks back in disgust at his audaciousness. _How dare he grab at the hands of such divinity?_

⤷ And thus, he reels his hands back and clutches his throat. His nails digging into the supple skin as he releases a breathy chuckle. His eyes blown open with a sheen of insanity, you find yourself thrust into the fear you’d experience upon first meeting him; when his luck had been particularly bad that day, and you caught him situation outside your bedroom window.

⤷ His erratic, turbulent temper terrified you. The way he dug his fingers further into his throat, clawing at the skin until the salmon-tinted lines began to trickle with deep, crimson. His pale skin stained with his own blood as he kept tearing at his throat.

⤷ “I deserve the worst of punishments for enforcing such despair upon you! Being killed within a millenial of lifetimes could never be enough to repent for the sins that the trash that I am has committed!” He shouts. You gasp, fearing for his wellbeing as he continuously attempts to pry the skin of his throat open; an inevitable suicide if he continued.

⤷ “Stop! Nagito, stop!” You scream, tears blurring your vision considerably. Yet as his figure turned to abstract forms of color, you could still make out the sickeningly red blobs. _He was bleeding, he was bleeding so much._

⤷ Prying his blood-stained hands from his throat that—if he’d continued—would’ve been torn to shreds. Your breathing loud and hiccuped, whilst his is mellow and nearly inaudible. _It must hurt to breathe_.

⤷ “Why? Why, why, why, _why?!_ ” You question, fear woven into your eyes as you tighten your grip on his wrists for reassurance; the assurance that he won’t proceed to try and kill himself.

⤷ He smiled, though as he attempted to speak, he coughed up remanence of what he’d inflicted; blood mixed with his saliva as he attempted to regulate his breathing.

⤷ He needed to go to a hospital and he needs to go _now_. But as you attempted to carry him to the front door, your phone in hand dialing an ambulance, Nagito presses his thumb against the end call button.

⤷ You face him with a panicked and agitated expression. Is he truly hellbent on dying? All because of the conveyance of your insecurities?

⤷ “Don’t...Can’t.” He voices. Though it’s so hoarse and mangled that you could barely understand his words. But with a bit of thinking, you find yourself deducing a reason behind his rejection of professional aid.

⤷ Even if you got him to a hospital, you’d inevitably have to explain what’d occurred. And informing them of his attempted suicide would surely have him hospitalized for much longer or even transferred to a clinic. _Nagito always told you that any moment spent without you is the eye of true despair._

⤷ Why had you doubted him? Why couldn’t you suppress yourself? His pain, his injury, it was all your fault. You know he devoted himself to you and through extremes such as this.

⤷ You flung his arm over your shoulder, carefully treading towards the living room as you set him down upon the couch, ready to fetch the first-aid kit.

⤷ You can fix this. You can make up for your mistakes, and help him. This is your fault, all your fault! But you can still fix it, right? You can still make it right, yeah? It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. _It’ll all be okay._

⤷ As you laid him down on the couch, his throat now barely trickling as he winces from the pain, he gazes up at you with such sincerity you find yourself in tears once again. “I love you, and I would happily die for you. I’m sorry for what my worthless self has caused you.”

⤷ His words force you into a state of fear. How could he speak of his death so easily? It unnerved you, yet you consistently reminded yourself that he wouldn’t die. The wounds are shallow, thankfully. He would live.

⤷ But that doesn’t alleviate the guilt as you choke back a sob, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling away. The tears from your eyes cascading and rolling onto his cheek, a now painful intimacy. Never again would you allow yourself to succumb to the clutches of your insecurity. _“I love you too. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIXTEPLE (IS THAT EVEN A WORD?!) UPDATES TODAY!! WOO-HOO!!


	16. ❝CUDDLING❞ Kokichi—Headcanons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: "could you please do kokichi cuddling hcs? :0 ty!"

⤷ In contrast to his habitual falsehoods, being held within his arms grants you serenity. It’s almost amusing how grand of a solace warmth he provides from his petite body.

⤷ Although he denies it relentlessly, Kokichi is a cuddle bug. He adores being bundled within your embrace and enjoys holding you as well, both equally as consolatory. It’s a mutual exchange of care, and one that he treasures immensely.

⤷ His favorite position is any variance of the spoon position big spoon, little spoon, and even half spoon! Typically they’re interchangeable depending on your combined moods. If one of you has had a rough day, they’re likely to be the little spoon; cradled by the other as they whisper sweet words of assurance into their ear.

⤷ Though if both of you are having a rough day and need mutual commiseration then you both will settle on the arm draper position; Kokichi’s second favorite.

⤷ His preference for this position is due to being able to face you, his arm curling around your side as he pulls you close, your arm mimicking his actions.

⤷ He enjoys your presence and finds it relieving even amidst the direst of situations. Being able to drape his arm over you and pull you into a half-embrace whilst basking in your ever-so familiar scent. A redolence he’s grown to adore as the mere whiff of it reminds him of you; someone he claims to be his most favorite person in the world.

⤷ But that’s something he’d rather be dragged through the frigid seas of the Atlantic before he admits it. Regardless, he doesn’t have to. The way his pale complexion flushes rosy upon nuzzling within your arms as he situates him in your lap is enough conveyance.

⤷ There’s something so tranquil about the way he’s able to barely comprehend the pulsating of your heart as it just barely manages to synchronize with his own.

⤷ Had he not been this close to you—circling his arm around your waist and reeling your chest to press against his—he likely wouldn’t have heard it. He, too, wouldn’t have heard the way it sped up as his breath fanned your neck, tickling you.

⤷ He adores the way you shudder, and the minor hinting of the blossoming of your flustering.

⤷ Watching you meet his eyes for a moment, gazing upon the mutual flickers of affection, before hurriedly tearing your gaze away whilst suppressing your ever-so contagious grin is undoubtedly amusing.

⤷ Though it’s during these placid moments that he settles on curtailing the amount of teasing. There aren’t many instances in which you two are able to envelop one another, peppering each other’s face with fleeting kisses. And even Kokichi would like a moment of serenity with you; no commotion, no teasing, just the two of you.

⤷ It’s when he’s within your arms—he prefers to be held, truthfully—that he’s allows himself to be vulnerable.

⤷ Though, of course, he has his limits. But one of the most significant traits that he appreciates about you is your understanding of him. Even if he struggles to allow you to see through his veneer of wistful deceit, he cherishes that you don’t force him to bite more than he can chew.

⤷ But by a commendable extent, he permits himself to rely on you. A trust that―in the eyes of Kokichi Oma―is immeasurable. It’s a dependency he would’ve never expected to put in another (besides his secret organization, of course).

⤷ Just as he has developed an infatuation for the lingering aroma you emit, you, too, have come to value the pleasant ambrosial that clings to his body; a sweet scent. It’s akin to some sort of treat. If you were being specific, he emits the essence of gum; Ice Breaker Ice Cubes.

⤷ Though the sweetened fragrance was to be expected, your boyfriend’s got quite the sweet tooth. Nonetheless, you’ve developed a fondness for the smell as it vividly reminds you of him.

⤷ A secret between you and I; Kokichi’s absolute comfort is to cuddle you whilst wearing your clothing. Whether it be a hoodie of yours or anything he deems worthy of contentment, he’ll gladly dress in the garment and bask in your natural scent which clings to the fabric. _He’s got a fixation for smells_.

⤷ While he is a cuddler and enjoys sentiments that spur a fond remembrance of you, he wouldn’t dare let this be known to anyone outside your relationship.

⤷ It’s not that he’s embarrassed by admitting the intimacy he engages in with you, but he’s honestly afraid of putting himself in such susceptible limelight. He’s sculpted a dominion of fallacy, and surely revealing such personal information would garner the Pavlovian of nullified anathema.

⤷ So every whisper―every word uttered―from within the envelopment of your embrace an extricate of his encapsulated truths. It’s moments he wouldn’t have thought of himself to share with another, and yet it feels ever-so fateful with you. Regardless, moments such as these are a favorite of Kokichi’s. And he wouldn’t share them with another other than you.


End file.
